My miserly instincts kicked in full swing while I was trying to think about my upcoming weekend. Slowly but surely I’ve trained myself to think of events, items, or vacations and then scream, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THANK YOU!” Can’t buy it, don’t want it, wont even be enjoyable I tell myself.
Like I’ve told my mother, the best way to stay on budget is to stay the fuck home.
So when my wonderful friend told me she requested my presence this weekend in Seattle for a romping good time of being the ridiculous, dancing with bras on our heads, impromptu Snuggie fashion show, 'Regular Hour' all-stars, harassing strangers in bars by calling them all ‘douche-canoes’ duo we’ve been known to be, my gut response was, “HELL YA BITCH! COUNT ME AND MY SHINY PANTIES IN!”
Shiny panties and all, mere moments after I got off the phone, the euphoria began to wear off. Suddenly my stomach began to cramp and it was all I could do to stop myself from writhing on the floor mumbling, “Too much money, too much money, too much money,” over and over and over.
It used to be that I just had gut wrenchingly powerful buyers remorse. I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that after I buy something it will take all the energy in the world to stop myself from returning it seconds after I’ve swiped my card. I accepted a long time ago that I have two ways to deal with this crippling buyers remorse. Either flee the store as if it has suddenly caught fire behind me, thereby ensuring I am unable to return the recently purchased items, or just give into the impulse and go ahead and return nearly everything I’ve ever desired.
But this latest emotion, this buyer’s remorse for my LIFE is fairly new. I’ve yet to completely wrap my head around the concept that seconds after my mouth commits me to something, my mind begins to reel as I search for a way to bail. Before I know it, I am hunting for any excuse to stay home with my measly five pennies, rocking them to sleep, bathing them and singing them sweet sweet lullabies.
Against every urge in my being, this weekend I am taking a page from my own book, throwing my hands up and allowing myself to have some FUN. I mean, you better believe I'll find a way to do this weekend up in the cheapest way imaginable, "OHHHHH LOOK! A BAR MAT SHOT IS ONLY 50 CENTS! COUNT ME IN FOR TWELVE OF THOSE MR!" But I'll be there. And that's all that matters at this point.
One of my closest friends will be in town and damn it I want to get dressed up in my Saturday night finest, wear beautiful shoes that pinch my feet, I want to catch up with college friends I haven’t seen in AGES, I want to laugh too loud, dance in living rooms, have conversations with strangers, maybe even wear a lamp shade on my head because GODDAMN IT I’M 24 AND THIS IS WHAT I AM SUPPOSED TO BE DOING WITH MY LIFE!
Either way, this weekend I say fuck those five pennies and the horse they rode in on.