The Bleeding Bank

Just got paid today and fully one half of it is already gone. I tried keeping a budget at one time but with the the unforeseen disasters happening lately, most of which are not mentioned on this blog, the budget strategy is out the fucking window. Somehow I make it, smiling all the while. It's because none of it really matters. There are people with nothing and they are glad for it.
As long as I can sit on my balcony in my pith helmet smoking a pipe and sipping Calvados or sit in the bath tub swilling Miller High Life, I'm where I want to be in the world. I'm very continental that way. I work to live, I don't live to work like most Americans. Suckers. Look at 'em. They bust their ass their whole lives and at the end all they have is a busted ass. No joys to speak of, no pleasant memories of simple daily pleasures, no sense of fulfillment. Nothing but bitter regret. Fuck that. I'll leave that to all you true strugglers out there. I sit here writing this in my pith helmet, pipe burning sweet, aromatic tobacco, and sipping my Calvados. When I'm down to my last 30 bucks I'll invest in a 30 pack of High Life and enough pre-packaged, frozen food to get me to the next pay day. Unlike most of you, I have a plan that can be achieved!
Tomorrow is the Scottish Highland games. I'll ride my bike out there and sneak in some of this fine hooch in my back pack, grub on over-priced fish, chips, and haggis, watch the games and the hot chicks in fantasy costumes, and get good-n-loaded. See? Another achievable plan. If you send me $59.95, I can show you how easy it is for YOU to achieve all you wildest dreams, just like me!
I feel sorry for all you saps.