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Posts Tagged ‘my life’

I am about to head out for a mid-day trip to Broadway Panhandler N.Y. Cake for the last of the wedding cake supplies. I will have the following nearly nonsensical shopping list on my person:

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Brokeness (n.): A state in which one must scrape money together for the barest of necessities and anything decadent seems a cruel joke. – My definition, anyway

Early Illustration of Old Mother Hubbard / Recent View into My Apartment

Early Illustration of Old Mother Hubbard / Recent View into My Apartment

It happens to most of us at some time or another – we’re fortunate if it’s fleeting – and there is no shame in honest poverty. So why should a litte penny-pinching cramp anyone’s style? While eating is technically a necessity, it easily becomes a thoughtless extravagance even when budgeting is more appropriate. Feeling tired? Order in. Deserve a treat? Go out to eat. Stomach surly? Pamper it with delicate foods. $12/lb. cheese smells really, really good? Well it could probably make a meal.

So when there comes a time that belts must be tightened, it is often easy to resort to eating badly as eating well is too often correlated with spending copious amounts of coin. But noone among us is a god or an emperor; we are not entitled to a service of food from far flung lands, prepared to suit our exacting palates when, let’s face it, we (okay, I) have lapsed on student loans.

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It’s been a distracting day. I started out with the best of intentions and realized halfway through that I would need some serious comfort food at lunchtime to remain upright. I am in a phase where I sort of forego everything I know about how to eat well and just focus on eating anything at all. There have been plenty of fried chicken parts consumed, let’s just say that.

I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'... it's way too damn close to the damn subway for me NOT to succumb!

I am not proud of this.

I am tentatively dipping my toes into the stagnant NYC job market waters and I’m literally dizzy either from the prospects or from the panic and the caffeine. Coca-Cola really gets me high these days for some reason, and yet I crave it. Sort of like once in a while I crave a 5-piece chicken dinner with fries, two rolls and beaucoup hot sauce: conceptually comforting but in reality kind of gross, heart palpitation-inducing and no doubt killing me.

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