I will be fifty this year. Officially I am ancient.
I must be old because I don’t understand anything. These millennials, always complaining about money, wah wah.
Why would you pay money for a tattoo if you’re so broke?
What’s with the expensive diets and grocery delivery? Hello Fresh? Hello bankruptcy.
What’s with the jewelry, watches and expensive purses? The coats, the shoes, the dresses?
Two hundred dollar sunglasses, hundred dollar haircuts, and fifty dollar nails?
Your phones are worth a thousand dollars and you lose and break them like they’re free.
Honey, cold pressed juice? Fresh fruit smoothies? Fancy lattes? I could go on and on.
Face it, you’re wasteful and spending beyond your means. You’re throwing away your future. Literally tossing it away.
Oh and in case you’re wondering who I’m talking to, I’m talking to me, in a mirror, every damned day for fifteen years.
It’s funny when I see my 260 dollar sunglasses on top of my empty fridge. It’s just so goddamned funny.