I'm poor.
Not "Living in fecund shanty-town poor" but the kind of poor where I have to feed myself store brand mac-n-cheese instead of laying down some serious coin for the Velveeta Shells that come with the cancer-inducing packet of delicious maybe-cheese.
I also don't shop at clothing stores where a beautiful and calming installation art piece is hanging out so that when I buy a sweater made from miniature ponies I can reflect on how lovely my life is with a black American Express card.
Instead, I buy my clothes from Goodwill where the only thing artistic is the lady with no teeth copping a squat inside the t-shirt rack because the bathroom is out-of-order.
My life sucks.
Source: Dude Craft
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