Sunday, January 4, 2009

Flaunting My Inner White Trash-ness

Thanks to the retards who took out mortgages they would never be able to re-pay, and even bigger thanks to the retards who approved them, my bloke and I have joined the ranks of white trash in NYC. While I'm mildly miffed about the whole thing, there is a tiny part of me that is relieved to be able to bring my cheap, miserly ways out of the closet and into the bright light of day.

Here are some of the things I've always done that are now justifiable:

DOGGIE BAGS
My bloke just plain old gets embarrassed by this habit. Especially when I ask the very expensive restaurant waiters to wrap up my bloke's steak bones. He is not convinced that it is worth it for me to take his eaten dinner home as a gift for our cats.

CREATING RECIPES FOR ROTTEN FOOD
Honestly, the Swiss got it right: rotten cheese makes a delicious fondue. I usually try to hide from my bloke the fact that we are having stir-fry as a way to disguise the soft and runny onions. Sometimes he catches me in the act and then refuses to eat my concoctions, but most of the time I get away with it.

MAKING MY OWN CLEANING SUPPLIES
Trust me - ain't nothing you can't clean with vinegar, baking soda, salt, and/or water. This lost nugget of wisdom is Proctor & Gamble's biggest dirty secret.

GARBAGE PICKING
As far as my bloke is concerned, this is the one habit of mine that, had he known I engage in this activity, he never would have married me. The first time that he witnessed me trying to lug an old bureau out from under a few bags of leaky Hefty bags, his lips curled back in disgust and he spit out "WHAT are you doing?!?" After explaining to him that this was exactly what I was looking for to replace the crappy dresser we had, and could he please just pick up the other end and help me carry this home, he visibly drew back from me, turned abruptly, and left me there. I tried as hard as I could to get that beautiful thing home but in the end, I had to abandon it.

To this day, most Sundays will find me meandering up and down the streets between 23rd and 13th and between 5th and 7th Avenues (what I consider the perfect balance between high-end garbage and close-enough-to-lug-home), Garbage Shopping for that elusive perfect bureau. In the meantime, I have yet to actually purchase a granny cart (do you know how many people throw these things out for no visible reason?), plant pots (honestly, a little chip here and there is NOT a big deal), or -my personal favorite find- a barber chair.

2 comments:

  1. hi Jess,

    thanks for visiting my Blog. :-)

    your comment:
    >I remember this story<

    yes, everyone remembers that sad day;
    we all have an anecdote. its not going to go away until we are all dead and gone. but even then the future will have been forged by the events of that day.

    ?what are your recollections?

    ..
    .ero

    ReplyDelete
  2. My recollections? I remember hearing my boss sob over the phone when it was just me & him on the line waiting for other people to join. It was good because it drew me out of myself for a minute.

    ReplyDelete