I just spent a 1950’s dowry on a couple of decolletage-friendly napkins and dayglow vagina sheaths from American Apparel.
This money could’ve been used to save a rainforest, to jumpstart the libido of a prudish panda, or to rebuild a sand castle in Newport. But alas, I made it rain on a collection of greedy hipsters who wear tube socks as pants. I am literally the worst person ever.
Taking a cue from my own contrition, I’ve reconciled a list of better ways to manhandle my money.
1. Add cash-money to my liver reparation fund. Unfortunately, this will undermine my liver destruction fund, but there are ways to circumvent such a catastrophe. Cheap alternatives to cocktail devouring include: strapping 40s to my thigh, drinking cough syrup and distilling nail polish remover for casual consumption.
2. Add money to my savings account. The financial institutions in the US are corrupt, so I’m currently negotiating terms with a Nigerian Prince who has promised to sit on a pile of my money until I am mentally competent enough to saunter through a mall, financially unscathed.
3. Repurpose my slut clothing and sell items to middle schoolers looking for “that edge”. Transitioning to high school is tough, but not when you look like a walking STD with braces. This project would combine a few of my favorite things: mentorship, puberty, capitalism and crotchless pantaloons.
4. The stock market is more volatile than my BAC, but I believe in making well-researched investments and patiently waiting for them to come to fruition. I just mailed out 35 envelopes with $1 amounts to poker players around the nation. I also mailed out contracts with the envelopes explaining that the players owed me my investment back plus retro-active interest totaling 1k per person. A laundry list of blackmail items was stapled to the back of these contracts with a post-it saying “do the right thing”. Business balls, I has them.