So now that I have laid out the reasons why I am not working in my previous post, I can get into the meat of my daily discoveries of being a broke bitch.
I am good at stretching a dollar. (Mostly because I have always had to)
I have always taken great pride in the fact that I have provided for my kids without aid, even when I could have. My thinking has always been "I COULD get on foodstamps or I COULD get another job." I chose another job. So I picked up a camera or slung me some dildo's...you know..whatever.
So now that I am unable to do any of my three jobs, I have had to make some...sacrifices. And the other day, while shopping with my sister, white onions were the sacrifice.
Can I just say...I love white onions.
White onions are my JAM.
I like my onions like I like my men: pretty to look at, super clean and they don't make you cry.
So there we were, sister and I, perusing the grocery store and thinking of the super cheap meals we use to make back in the Rancho Cordova days.
"Oh you can do a big pot of stew, some pasta OH! Remember we made that shepherds pie. That was good!" My sister was walking next to me, pushing the cart.
"Oh yes. But that has hamburger and I HATE it." I protested (whined)
My sister looked away and pretended to "see" something else because that is what she does when I annoy her.
And I knew she would, so I said nonchalantly "I'll grab onions." and I walked slowly up to the table filled with shining balls of tear-jerkers. And there they were, so beautiful, so pure, so perfectly round with thin skins that cook down perfectly when heated.
I silently opened my fucked up produce bag (whats up with those?) and reached my hand out for a gleaming white onion.
But my sister is a ninja now (apparently) and her voice sounded in my ear, ever judging of my onion needs. "Oh look! Onions are on sale. Only .38 a pound."
"Oh great!" I said relieved and grabbed a perfectly symmetrical bulb.
"Ah Ah!" she admonished "THOSE onions are .38 a pound." and she pointed to a cardboard box full of ugly, lumpy, yellow like pee onions.
I wrinkled my nose "But I don't WANT those onions. Those onions are ugly. I HATE those ones." I scowled down at them in their cardboard box. "They are like homeless onions, look at them. I wouldn't even give them a dollar."
"Well the white onions are $1.63 a pound.....so...." she left off.
I looked at my favorite white onions, sitting proudly in their wicker basket homes and back to the homeless crackhead onions.
I still clutched my perfect onion in my fist and I pointed to the yellow ones "But...those are broke people onions." I protested one last time.
My sister patted my back "Sister...you ARE broke people" and as she strolled away she called over her shoulder "and do you know what else broke people eat? Hamburger."
I scrunched up my face "You know what else broke people eat..." I said in a smarmy sister mocking voice as I put my white onion back with it's people.
And then I picked up some crack head onions and started stuffing them in my produce bag. I'm going to pretend that I did it with dignity and honor and not fake sobbing as loud as I could about the injustices of having to choose pee onions.
Yeah.
Let's go with that.
No comments:
Post a Comment