Being poor is knowing exactly how much everything costs.
Being poor is getting angry at your kids for asking for all the crap they see on TV.
Being poor is having to keep buying $800 cars because they’re what you can afford, and then having the cars break down on you, because there’s not an $800 car in America that’s worth a damn.
Being poor is hoping the toothache goes away.
Being poor is knowing your kid goes to friends’ houses but never has friends over to yours.
Being poor is going to the restroom before you get in the school lunch line so your friends will be ahead of you and won’t hear you say “I get free lunch” when you get to the cashier.
Being poor is living next to the freeway.
Being poor is coming back to the car with your children in the back seat, clutching that box of Raisin Bran you just bought and trying to think of a way to make the kids understand that the box has to last.
Being poor is wondering if your well-off sibling is lying when he says he doesn’t mind when you ask for help.
Being poor is off-brand toys.
Being poor is a heater in only one room of the house.
Being poor is knowing you can’t leave $5 on the coffee table when your friends are around.
Being poor is hoping your kids don’t have a growth spurt.
Being poor is stealing meat from the store, frying it up before your mom gets home and then telling her she doesn’t have make dinner tonight because you’re not hungry anyway.
Being poor is Goodwill underwear.
Being poor is not enough space for everyone who lives with you.
Being poor is feeling the glued soles tear off your supermarket shoes when you run around the playground.
Being poor is your kid’s school being the one with the 15-year-old textbooks and no air conditioning.
Being poor is thinking $8 an hour is a really good deal.
Being poor is relying on people who don’t give a damn about you.
Being poor is an overnight shift under florescent lights.
Being poor is finding the letter your mom wrote to your dad, begging him for the child support.
Being poor is a bathtub you have to empty into the toilet.
Being poor is stopping the car to take a lamp from a stranger’s trash.
Being poor is making lunch for your kid when a cockroach skitters over the bread, and you looking over to see if your kid saw.
Being poor is believing a GED actually makes a goddamned difference.
Being poor is people angry at you just for walking around in the mall.
Being poor is not taking the job because you can’t find someone you trust to watch your kids.
Being poor is the police busting into the apartment right next to yours.
Being poor is not talking to that girl because she’ll probably just laugh at your clothes.
Being poor is hoping you’ll be invited for dinner.
Being poor is a sidewalk with lots of brown glass on it.
Being poor is people thinking they know something about you by the way you talk.
Being poor is needing that 35-cent raise.
Being poor is your kid’s teacher assuming you don’t have any books in your home.
Being poor is six dollars short on the utility bill and no way to close the gap.
Being poor is crying when you drop the mac and cheese on the floor.
Being poor is knowing you work as hard as anyone, anywhere.
Being poor is people surprised to discover you’re not actually stupid.
Being poor is people surprised to discover you’re not actually lazy.
Being poor is a six-hour wait in an emergency room with a sick child asleep on your lap.
Being poor is never buying anything someone else hasn’t bought first.
Being poor is picking the 10 cent ramen instead of the 12 cent ramen because that’s two extra packages for every dollar.
Being poor is having to live with choices you didn’t know you made when you were 14 years old.
Being poor is getting tired of people wanting you to be grateful.
Being poor is knowing you’re being judged.
Being poor is a box of crayons and a $1 coloring book from a community center Santa.
Being poor is checking the coin return slot of every soda machine you go by.
Being poor is deciding that it’s all right to base a relationship on shelter.
Being poor is knowing you really shouldn’t spend that buck on a Lotto ticket.
Being poor is hoping the register lady will spot you the dime.
Being poor is feeling helpless when your child makes the same mistakes you did, and won’t listen to you beg them against doing so.
Being poor is a cough that doesn’t go away.
Being poor is making sure you don’t spill on the couch, just in case you have to give it back before the lease is up.
Being poor is a $200 paycheck advance from a company that takes $250 when the paycheck comes in.
Being poor is four years of night classes for an Associates of Art degree.
Being poor is a lumpy futon bed.
Being poor is knowing where the shelter is.
Being poor is people who have never been poor wondering why you choose to be so.
Being poor is knowing how hard it is to stop being poor.
Being poor is seeing how few options you have.
Being poor is running in place.
Being poor is people wondering why you didn’t leave.
— John Scalzi
June 2013
33 tracks, a little over two hours, and it is ALL OVER THE PLACE.
I’ll most likely upload it this afternoon, and re-post sparingly over the next few days.
i’m so sick of the government reading but never liking my statuses
Father John Misty, “I’m Writing A Novel”
It’s never too soon to decide how to mark National Bourbon Day. Celebrated on June 14 (that’s Friday), this I’m-not-quite-sure-it’s-official holiday commemorates the day in 1789 that the Rev. Elijah Craig is said to have first distilled whiskey in Kentucky.
Now, if…
Calendar: marked
USA! USA!
There There (The Boney King of Nowhere)-Radiohead
Just because you feel it, doesn’t mean it’s there. (There’s someone on your shoulder. There’s someone on your shoulder)
The Strokes // Automatic Stop
Yeah, I know you warned me
But this is too important
Now I got a different view
It’s you…
- 1950s lyrics: splishin and a-splashin, one time i was splishin and a-splashin. ooh, i was movin and a-groovin. yeah, i was splishin and a-splashin.
- 1960s lyrics: he hit me and it felt like a kiss. he hit me and i knew he loved me. if he didn't care for me, i could have never made him mad. but he hit me and i was glad.
- 1970s lyrics: my ding-a-ling, my ding-a-ling, i want to play with my ding-a-ling. my ding-a-ling, my ding-a-ling, i want to play with my ding-a-ling.
- 2012 lyrics: i'm pimpin where i'm winnin, thats just how i’m chillin. i'm smokin grits and sellin chickens, corvette painted lemons.
- EVERY DECADE HAS BAD LYRICS NOW GET OVER YOURSELVES YOU INSUFFERABLE DOUCHEBAGS
Eels, “Get Ur Freak On” (Missy Elliot cover)
I may be up on some Vicodin and shit BUT STILL
reference for writers: alcoholic beverage breakdown
I had a disturbing exchange with a high school-aged person today that prompted this…
- Beer, wine, mead, and cider are fermented beverages.
- Mead is made from honey.
- Cider is made…
Most of this except the part about avoiding manhattans.
Those things, if made correctly, are worth most of their trouble.
