Monday, March 2, 2009

To prevent shopping, just add vodka

I went on a date with this total assbag one time that declared after about 35 minutes of conversation that I spent half my paycheck on booze at the bars each weekend and I would have more money in the bank if I just kicked that habit. You know, that horribly addictive and life ruining habit of having friends, being social and meeting new people. It's a total money grubbing, soul sucking bitch apparently...in his assbag-ish opinion.

That one comment alone didn't make him the huge tool he is today. It only contributed to the years of bitter tool-ness he had already built up. Needless to say, I don't value this guy's opinion nor do I take it to heart since I know that comment was made in jealously because "No Friends Magee's" weekends consist of stalking girls on Match.com and trying to have sex with his poor, unwilling dog.

However, I do go out quite a bit. More than the average person? Probably. But the point is, this seemingly brilliant and "fucking duh" theory he and others have presented was proven so very, very wrong last weekend...at least in my case.

Do you know what I did last Friday night? Read a book (a fucking hilarious book, by the way, that I have since finished - "Are You There Vodka, It's Me Chelsea," by Chelsea Handler), did some laundry, cleaned, gave myself a manicure, touched up my dye job and went to Target.

LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAME.

I found it nothing short of shocking that I actually enjoyed my lame ass Friday night too. I'm going to go ahead and blame it on the fact that I probably wasn't quite fully recovered from the New Orleans drunk-o-palooza and I went out Thursday night with the boy because heaven forbid there be any mention of me growing old and boring...or worse...maturing...

That last word in the list that summed up my old lady Friday night - Target - is more interesting than it seems partly because the typical Friday night super-mart-like store shopper is usually an enormous fat lady that makes her spandex stirrup pants work extremely hard and is a favorite conversation topic of my father's.

However, I left my spandex at home this time and didn't notice any of the aforementioned ladies because I was too busy spending nearly $200. Yes, instead of spending perhaps $30 at the bars or maybe even less depending on how generous the boys are being, I spent close to $200 at Target. Who does that?

I mean, it's Target. There's cute stuff - jewelry, shoes, etc. - but it's no designer vintage boutique. What the hell did I buy?

Well, I browsed the cosmetics section for a good half hour causing most of the damage since I have this thing for those lipsticks that stay on your lips for hours that cost $10 a pop and seem to only come off if your lips are smashed against hotel pillows in a drunken slumber, which is kind of weird because I don't know anybody else that wears bright lip color besides my 77-year-old aunt...What does that say about me? Plus, I just love all beauty supplies, which happen to be expensive.

On top of some groceries I also threw in a $16 8-ounce bottle of hairspray that promised to give me Big Sexy Hair, which I later found out actually did in fact give me Big Sexy Hair, so I suppose I got my money's worth on that one.

While I used to think these hats were dumb,
I recently changed my mind and while I was frantically rummaging around in the purses because it was almost closing time, that guy ended up in my basket without being tried on along with this guy.
My theory was I could just try them on at home and if they looked retarded, I'd take them back. Well, they looked the opposite of retarded, so no money back for me.

Somewhere along the way I decided I needed pink argyle knee socks because really? Who doesn't? I also decided socks with snails on them were a must have and that the boy needed some socks with snails on them as well in a different color since he's the weird sock king.

Crap I tell you, all crap. Do you see what happens when I don't do something constructive with my Friday night such as go to bars and drink? I shop and spend assloads of money on stupid shit.

Just the other day I was having a conversation with the boy and explaining to him why I thought he had an addictive personality since he's an occasional smokes-when-he-drinks guy:


Jim: "Lara, I smoke, like, four cigarettes a week."

Me: "Yeah, but you still smoke. You still have the desire to smoke."

Jim: "Well, I guess we all have a vice."

Me: "Oh yeah? What's my vice then?"

Jim: (pauses for roughly two and a half seconds to ponder) "Shopping."

Me: "Goddammit."


This is probably why I still don't have a credit card and take personal offense when someone tries to offer me one. The checker at Target is all, "Would you like to save 10 percent and open a Target card today?" And I just look at them, scowl and say, "Why are you trying to ruin my life? You don't even know me!"

And, why is it when everyone's talking about the importance of "living within your means" and keeping your debt under control along with all this identity theft bullshit does society force you to have a credit card in order to purchase anything substantial such as a car or a home? Can't they just call the electric or gas company and ask if I pay my shit on time? It's like credit cards are evil, but we're going to go ahead and make it impossible for you not to have one. For me, I must establish credit in order to prepare for my future in case I'm ever able to afford a house (yeah, riiight.) yet in the meantime, I would fuck up my future because I'd buy shoes...so many, many shoes...and cute dresses...and socks with snails on them.

To make up for my last weekend of non-drinky-drinky, vodka and I made out A LOT this weekend causing me to stroke the hair of strangers and fall down, skinning my left knee through my jeans while Jim's old co-workers pointed and laughed at me. Yea me!

But, I spent less than $40 all weekend. Alcoholism is a much cheaper vice than shopping. I know which one I'll be siding with.

If I wasn't completely freaked out and scared of that assbag's mental instabilities, I'd totally call his ass up right now and tell him that I proved his bullshit theory completely wrong. Except I erased his number and blocked it after receiving all those verbally abusive text messages after knowing him for 48 hours. Yeah, so that's not going to happen, but at least I have scientific proof to present to any future naysayers.

Remember, if you get the urge to shop, just go drink. It's waaaay cheaper.

5 comments:

Kate said...

BAH-HA-HA! You fell over? When was this?! You missed Sean falling over, too...the weird-o that kept staring at you and who tried to buy you a roofie-colada fell over at some point and took Sean with him. Sean ended up bleeding (a little bit) from the face and asking everyone for the rest of the night who punched him in the face so that he could fight them. Sean should probably just go to Target...

Lara said...

The power went out in Harry's so we had to leave early and I definitely busted my ass down the last step and everybody inside saw. Jim just looked at me like, 'you fucking dumbshit.' In Sean's case - he has money to burn, so he'd definitely be safer at Target.

Prosy said...

You know whats the worst? Shopping AFTER you're drunk. You buy the craziest shit.

Your favorite teacher said...

Let me just say, its a hard-knock life being single and in your 20's. I mean what else are you going to do on the weekends besides booze it up with your fav gal pals? I myself have been trying to "slow my roll" in order to save a little cash and get the f out of my parents house. I ordered 6 books on amazon because they didnt cost more than 3 dollars each and because I can. BTW are you there vodka its me chelsea is one of my fav books! Have you read My horizontal life by her? Even funnier! And about the guy'le-douche...fuck em! Keep on keepin' on. Booze when you want, make out w/ whoever you want. Get the damn thing done girl!

Lisa Christiano Rose said...

That was hilarious. Love the "assbag" reference. Hey, at least you don't drink and dial. My friend and I used to call all our old flames and ask them if they're still thinking about us. Trouble was, it was 3 or 4 in the morning because I'm on PST and all the flames live in EST. So not only did they hate me then, but the hatred intensified when receiving a wee morning phone call from some unplugged former chick. And sometimes their wives answered. Not good. But kinda funny.

 

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