champagne taste and a beer budget

my sweet dad, for the better part of my life, has supported me. i don't just mean emotionally but also financially. he paid for me to be a kid, swim on the swim team, go to about 100 formals before i graduated, drive the suv i wanted, wear the clothes that were cool, live off campus in college, support the staff at spankies, be in a sorority, travel on spring break, have the first smartphone, and the list goes on and on. i never really knew what a big deal all his spending was until suddenly, without warning, i became an adult. and not just any adult, but a single adult working for a church and living on my own earnings. aka...i got poor.
now please do not misunderstand me. this lifestyle that i deem "poor" is strictly as compared to the pretty cushy lifestyle i had before. the lifestyle which i had become accustomed. and the lifestyle that stopped so abruptly (after the 6 month adjustment period my dad granted me).
i was under the impression that when i graduated from grad school i would be a millionare. i would work 9 to 5, buy a house, go out with my friends, travel at will, and spend my funds only at the kate spade store. i thought i would be sittin in high cotton. i mean i had "lived" on the pay of a part-time youth intern and graduate assistant for years. i would be rollin in the dough now! wrong. i failed to caculate the money that trickled down from dear old dad...and well...i suddenly missed it.
now my life is nice. i have beautiful, fun, amazing friends, a great job, cozy house, nice car, and a couple of kate spade items that i love. not bad at all. the gripe is that no one really prepared me for paying my own iphone bill, or spending a small fortune at kroger just for milk and bread, or paying a natural gas bill even in the summer when my firepalce is not on, or paying a water bill for one that rivals a small family (i refuse to cut back my shower time. plus i have long hair). my parents taught me financial responsibility...they just didn't teach me that once i was on my own it would be a lot harder. they're so glass half full.
so for now i guess i will have to live with less than frequent shopping trips. i guess i will have to live with generic vitamins. i guess i will have to read paperback books rather than e-books on my ipad. and i guess for now i will have to fondly remember the days when it was deemed appropriate to charge dinner to my credit card as a mental health emergency. and remember fondly when manicures and pedicures were a staple activity every other friday. and i'll have to remember fondly the days when coupon clipping never crossed my mind. and i'll just have to be glad that i had it good...for a little whilie.

working 9 to 5

ok, so super lame title. i know. but what else would have possibly fit for a girl who literally works 9 to 5 in dolly's hometown.
i drive a long way to work and that is a time i really enjoy. mostly because it is quiet, i think of stuff to blog, and i catch up on celebrity gossip on the radio. in addition to all that serious stuff, i have decided a few things on my 45 minute one way commute.
1. working is for the birds.
2. i could be a better citizen if i had an endless cash flow.
3. i like stuff i can't afford.
now, since i am clearly a fan of not working, does that mean i don't like my job? nope. i actually love my job with my whole heart. i can't imagine doing anything else, and i know nothing else would fit me. but, i would be overjoyed if i could do the exact job i do now as a volunteer. i wish i could do work and let the church keep the money (of course i would need no bills and a bottomless pocketbook). i would be a force to be reckoned with if this were the case. BUT, it's not and love or no love...working is for the birds.
now how can money make me a better person? glad you asked. i like to help people out. i always want to give the hobo on the road some dinner money. i like to surprise the person behind me at starbucks with a free latte. i wish i could take every kid who needs new shoes shopping for all the things they lack. but the problem, i am doing good to feed and clothe myself sometimes. why can't i find that elusive money tree? why can't i fall in love and get married to a gatrillionaire who is a-ok with me staying at home and pursuing my passions and of course providing financial support to see my dreams through? why wasn't i born rich instead of so good looking? ugh...the plight of the pretty.
and maybe one of the most notorious hardships of this 9 to 5 gal is my champagne taste and beer budget. i like nice things. i like to buy stuff that will last. i like to redecorate every season. i like Tiffany's and Kate Spade, a lot. i like to be able to spend money. i just have some sort of imbalance that makes me only drawn to stuff i have to save up my sofa change to get. maybe i'm not the only person who suffers from budget breaks and buyers remorse. but i'm the only person i know who is affected by my parameters specifically...therefore, i feel sorry for me. again, this could be cured with a money tree or sugar daddy. i'm not (that) picky.
in the meantime, i'll keep buying $1 mcdonald's sweet tea instead of mcalisters yummier version. i'll keep shopping the clearance racks at target. i'll keep donating the tiny amounts of change i have to every sports team and bell ringer outside of walmart. i'll keep driving my fairly base model xterra. i'll even keep my "special moments only" policy for Tiffany and Kate.
but, when i'm a gatrillionaire, watch out. oprah and the queen will have noting on me. and on forbes magazine...i'll choose to smile next to dolly p. what up.