You can take the girl out of poverty…but guaranteed she’ll find her way back.
Here we are again.
For a hot minute there, I thought I was safe to buy non-Happy Hour drinks in Manhattan, store-bought furniture, and movie tickets to see Jurassic World in 3D for $20 a pop. Alas, I find myself again staring down the face of the bargain wine wall, wondering where it all went wrong. If we (in the first world) are the owners of our destiny, am I destined to remain a poor, starving (lol!) dramatist? I am more creative when I’m desperate (necessity is the mother of invention!!)…
I recently had a Come-to-Jesus moment when I realized that I don’t really have a career. My employment history to date kind of meanders around the media landscape like a sauced frat bro. And I’m not very good at my current job either, what with its real responsibilities and the fact that I can’t just get by off my good humor and edible bribes.
So, what’s a Broke Bitch to do? No one who is already as lazy and morose as I am is going to invite hardship by switching careers unprovoked. I do not go looking for poverty; poverty finds me. Easily, in fact. But then that very thing happened, and indeed I am now provoked to get up off my fat ass and throw my weight (plus my dog son’s) toward pursuing my dream: becoming a writer (but, like, more serious writing than the self-pitying word vomit I spew out here).
Fear not, fellow Broke Bitches, for though I am back in the shit with that lack of dividendz ‘n what not, I am the goddaughter of The Grand Hustle Game (somehow…by proxy, I guess), and I come armed with questionable morals, low standards, and an empty bag of fucks. I will prevail.
…Or I’ll end up as Brian Griffin.