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Showing posts with label poor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poor. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 12, 2026

Broke As A Bad Joke

Risky Business has fallen on some hard times since she had to leave her residency program. She is living with her parents, and money has gotten pretty tight. That's okay because she has come up with a no-fail financial plan: donating plasma. I am so jealous! If it weren't for the medication that I am on, I would be at the donation center now! 

Most people think that being broke is just being broke; a period of time when a person has to deal with strained resources and/or little to no money. However, the average person may not be broke enough to know that there are levels to brokeness. There is the general not having money and waiting on money to come in level, and there is the level where you have to get really creative, really quickly, or you are going to cross over into a dire situation. This is where a lot of people land in brokeness. Then, of course, there are those who have absolutely no loot to fall back on, their plans didn't work out, and they end up being homeless. That is when a broke person officially crosses over to being poor. Poor is hard. Really hard. 

So, like most women out in the world today who need dough, Risky is getting creative, and I admire her giddy-up. Other friends are offering freelance services, driving for ride shares, pawning their goods, or relying on a boyfriend. Some have resorted to stripping, OnlyFans, or some other pay-for-play service. Again, I salute these people! I have nothing to offer for quick cash, which may be the root of my real problems in real life. I would start a lemonade stand, but lemons have gotten pricey. 

Late last year, I was on a call with many of my old college friends. It was a call solidifying the committee for our reunion year. Part of the discussion was about our class gift and what our fundraising goal was going to be. Someone on the call suggested that there were some of us who could afford to donate $24K. I put myself on mute and laughed. Twenty-four thousand American dollars?! If I had that kind of money, I would withdraw half of it and roll around in it on my bedroom floor naked. Then I would begin to pay off my bills, starting with the ones that used the most threatening language in their letters. 24K. Get out of here! 

Coffee often says that I can work hard or find a man who does. Sadly, I don't think that is my lot in life. I think I am totally a plasma type of girl. However, we discussed that isn't an option for me. Are people willing to pay money for other people's failed dreams or bad jokes?

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotifyless Mind

Poverty has taken a lot from me over the past three years. My apartment. My independence. My ability to maintain an above negative balance in my checking account. But at the beginning of the month, poverty took something from me that I need to survive; that is the very power source of my existence. Poverty has finally taken away my Spotify Premium. It has happened people! I can no longer afford the $10 a month.
Last night, I had no other choice but to go to Youtube for my musical needs. It was horrible. I haven't gone on Youtube to listen to music since I was like 25. All my playlists are outdated and come with like a million commercials. The blast from the past of it all was too much. While listening to some early ASAP Rocky, I thought that I could actually hear my old roommate having sex in the next room over.
2019 has to bring me wealth and wealth and more wealth, because there is now officially nothing else my poverty can take from me, unless I finally get the medical okay to cell my organs and eggs. Come New Year's, I will be praying, eating greens, dancing on the arm of the freeway with an empty tin can for tips- anything I need to do to make some money. Because Mama draws a line at trying to live her life without the aid of a commercial-free soundtrack. It really is too much!

Monday, April 12, 2010

Taxed Out

Can I whine for a sec?
I HATE TAX TIME!
I don't even understand why I have to participate in this ish! I don't make any money! It's not like the economy will collapse if I don't file! I hate going to those free ghetto spots where people get into fights over who's next with the ONE tax agent. I hate that my return is always too small to get anything cool. I wouldn't file at all if I wasn't scared I would end up like Ron Isley. Ugh, tomorrow, I have to go sit amongst my ghetto brethren, waiting to be mocked by some tax dweeb who is going to impatiently ask me questions that I do not know the answer to.
WHY ME?!
Why can't I ever have a ton of money to have some nerd do this ish for me?! Why, why, why? I am going to be so scared of losing my spot in line that I won't even be able to pee...or eat?! I wish that Ghost Writer could do this for me. Man, I am soooo annoyed.