Wimpy Wimpy Wimpy

There's been a lot of talk lately about the new middle class. I myself am broke. Really broke. Like brokey-broke broke. I can't quite come to grips with "poor", but it was a sad day when generic facial cleanser (Kinney brand, I believe) replaced my Aveda Cleansing Gel.

Of course there are some necessities I will still forgo food to acquire... Christian Dior waterproof mascara, DKNY black opaque control top tights, and Isle of Eden's Sugar Scrub (and body creme, and hair conditioner, and shaving mousse...), but I have canceled extended cable, sworn off glossy magazines, and stopped coloring my hair (yes, I know it was a shock to find out I'm not a real blond... anymore). And those Vans with winged hearts just screamed my name.

In pondering my predicament, I have chosen Personal Bankruptcy for $20,000, Alex. I'm not ashamed... actually I'm more ashamed of the circumstances that brought me to this brink. Credit cards are evil... they are not an "investment in my future career wardrobe" or loans to decorate the house, or even a panacea for materialismitis... they are blood sucking Icon wallet stuffers and I am now anemic and in debt to my grey. Bankruptcy is like grad school for the financially illiterate. Although right now it feels like a scavenger hunt for paperwork... and where are those damn car titles???

I am the new middle class, and I will gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today.