Being naturally stingy with my shekels, when I saunter into a store I almost always head for the ‘day old’ bin or clearance aisle first. I can’t help it if I am naturally attracted to dented doorstops which in a former life were canned yams, or donuts with that extra special sweaty sparkle. Hey I’m not a slob, it’s just I know which hairy side my bargain bread is buttered on and it is all about saving the GREEN these days!
While the rest of you fat cats feast on your Friskies, luxurious pillow-soft 12 grain buns and wear pants with working zippers, I am THAT guy who eats p-butter and toe jam sandwiches off of the 99 cent kids-food menu. No really, I gnaw that stuck-stuff right off the kidlet menus to help build-up my ‘rug-rat’ germ immunity, while hopefully strengthening my teeth and breath as well.
If you don’t finish that last cold shriveled fry, hot pepper or undercooked bite o’ burger, you can bet I’ll be asking for a take-home box and feasting on it tomorrow. There’s nothing like ‘hot water chili’ and donning the dream of a hobo-king at somebody else’s expense. Yes the only Wet Nap luxury in my pocket will be AFTER you’ve used yours; because when you’re flying as high as I do there’s little room for oxygen and even less for pride - that slipped through the holes in my lining long ago.
Oh of course I jest, despite my thrifty proclivities I clearly have had a pretty lucky life. I’m not complaining and have gotten used to clawing my way out of the sweaty throws of the bargain basement. Being cheap is my personal success thrill-quest, where every ransacked trash-can is one raccoon away from a winning lottery ticket and the lofty lore of living large. The only thing is if I ever REALLY do find myself snugly cradled in life’s easy breezy luxurious LAP – I wholly hope at least one of us will have holy intentions and wear a pair of ‘un-holey’ pants.