Arlette (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} arletterocks) wrote,@ 2008-08-15 16:58:00 |
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Overconsumption
Hi, self! How're you feeling?
Good. Full!
Yeah? Had lunch, then?
Yeah, Quiznos!
Yeah? Didn't you decide this week that you were gonna eat healthy and vegan for a while? Until, like, 20 pounds lighter than now?
Shut up. All the healthy salad places close by 3 p.m. because all the dieting Financial District freaks already had their organic low-carb salads and won't eat again until after they get home from the gym. Plus it was right next to the stationer—
What was that?
Nothing.
No, I just didn't hear you. What were you saying?
FINE I WAS AT THE STATIONERY STORE WHERE I SPENT FIFTY BUCKS ON A PEN.
Fifty? But aren't you trying to save up for a really good digital camera? And haven't you decided that it's about time you start being a grown-up about your finances? And don't give me a line about how "now you can get rid of all your other pens since you have one really good one," because that's just the NorCal-specific hippie brand of conspicuous consumption that leads to people living the "simple life" in half-million-dollar kitchens.
Fine. Fifty-five. It was $55 before tax.
Really?
Plus a Lotta Jansdotter journal. And a little canvas zip-up bag to keep the journal and a mechanical pencil and a pen in, because apparently I am more invested in equipping my writing life than living it. Except I can't use the fancy new pen in the journal because the ink seeps through the pages, so I bought a different pen just for the bag.
But why? Didn't you feel kinda stupid when you bought it?
Yes. And why? Because picking it up and writing it feels like climbing into the gold E-type Jag my dad had to drive for work once. He picked me up in it and we drove to the Chinese restaurant down the street.
. . .
In other news, I have killed the Twitter digests here because everyone who cares about what band I like today and how the clouds look during my commute is already following me.
Hi, self! How're you feeling?
Good. Full!
Yeah? Had lunch, then?
Yeah, Quiznos!
Yeah? Didn't you decide this week that you were gonna eat healthy and vegan for a while? Until, like, 20 pounds lighter than now?
Shut up. All the healthy salad places close by 3 p.m. because all the dieting Financial District freaks already had their organic low-carb salads and won't eat again until after they get home from the gym. Plus it was right next to the stationer—
What was that?
Nothing.
No, I just didn't hear you. What were you saying?
FINE I WAS AT THE STATIONERY STORE WHERE I SPENT FIFTY BUCKS ON A PEN.
Fifty? But aren't you trying to save up for a really good digital camera? And haven't you decided that it's about time you start being a grown-up about your finances? And don't give me a line about how "now you can get rid of all your other pens since you have one really good one," because that's just the NorCal-specific hippie brand of conspicuous consumption that leads to people living the "simple life" in half-million-dollar kitchens.
Fine. Fifty-five. It was $55 before tax.
Really?
Plus a Lotta Jansdotter journal. And a little canvas zip-up bag to keep the journal and a mechanical pencil and a pen in, because apparently I am more invested in equipping my writing life than living it. Except I can't use the fancy new pen in the journal because the ink seeps through the pages, so I bought a different pen just for the bag.
But why? Didn't you feel kinda stupid when you bought it?
Yes. And why? Because picking it up and writing it feels like climbing into the gold E-type Jag my dad had to drive for work once. He picked me up in it and we drove to the Chinese restaurant down the street.
. . .
In other news, I have killed the Twitter digests here because everyone who cares about what band I like today and how the clouds look during my commute is already following me.
