Angry Gin-drinker is Angry About Capitalism

Oh, Lord, yinz.  Lord, sweet Jesus.  June is upon us and we are so fucking broke.  I never say we're poor -- Ted makes a decent salary, per se, and I make a ... salary for most of the year, so it's not reasonable to say we're poor.  But between debt and my natural disposition to let money run through my fingers, we're constantly broke.  But never moreso than June through September.  Being an academic is wonderful for many reasons, but the reliable paycheck isn't one of them.

I saw this dog today.  He was very intense.

How broke?  Yinz, Ted got his paycheck, and after all our bills are paid for this half of the month (the gas bill WILL be late), we've got $270 to live on until the 15th.

Talking about this shit is fraught, y'know?  Because 1) I know that we have A LOT of privilege.  Ted and I are both very educated, very white, very straight, and have supportive families that have helped us when we've gotten just too far below the waterline.  And 2) $270 is enough money to feed two people and five cats for 14 days, and we don't NEED things like trips to the movies, beer, or ... beer.  But on the other hand, I have beef with that old canard that goes like, "Poor people shouldn't waste their money on [things other people enjoy regularly and even take for granted].  They know they're poor, they should saaaaaaaave."  I have always been offended by the idea that people who aren't poor think that poor people shouldn't enjoy a nice pair of new shoes sometimes, a nice date out with dinner and a show, a nice trip with their kids to an amusement park.  Yes, those things can be costly, but the suggestion that poor people should forego every costly, pleasant thing just because they're poor is offensively dehumanizing.

Now, as I said above, though, Ted and I aren't poor, we're broke -- and frequently irresponsible with money.  (Though definitely not as irresponsible as we could be.)  But, as far as that goes, I've got thoughts too.  Look, I'm smart.  I know how to add and subtract, I know how the economy works generally, I know that I'm in debt to a multitude of usurious purveyors, etc.  But I refuse to give too big a damn about money.  Life is -- actually, really, not figuratively -- really fucking short, and I don't intend to spend mine obsessing over something as joyless as money.  I realize that this is a form of privilege too -- many people actually, really, literally have to worry about money every moment of the day, and if they don't their kids don't get fed.  No one in this country should be in that position; but the Mitt Romneys of the world like it when other people suffer, so here we are.  But in any event, I'm not in that position, thank a merciful God -- I've got $270 to live on for two weeks, and a credit card in an emergency.  And so, broke or not, I just refuse to devote my life to scrimping and worrying and otherwise doting over money, so far as it is possible for me to avoid it.

But damn yo, we are pretty broke.

Indian food and gin. How British of me.

So, in honor of that, we got Indian take away and I am drinking a bunch of gin.  Tomorrow I will go to the Strip, buy cheap things to eat like greens and chicken thighs and pasta and bread, and so forth.

You might be able to tell I already have some gin in me.  Whatever,  In summation: fuck capitalism.  Seriously.  Fuck it.  We've got five advanced degrees in this house, how are we living off $270?

ANYHOODLE.

Today my supportive mother came to visit.  She took me to lunch at Jimmy Wan's and to see Men in Black III, which was shockingly good.  She also bought us a new puzzle, so guess what's on our agenda.

Instead of ads on the inside of the bathroom stall doors, Waterworks Cinema puts up little fortunes and platitudes.  This is also very intense, I feel, at least for a bathroom stall door.