Money sucks

Or rather, the lack of it sucks.


It's the first of the month, which means du du dum....it's RENT DAY! ooo aaaaa.
and I've got it but that's about it. Seriously. I don't understand this; how can I work as much as I do, and still end up looking down the pipe of a no-grocery week where I'll probably have to call in sick because I can't afford the gas to get myself to work?
Now I'm not saying I couldn't use a sleep in day, and I'm definatly not saying I can't induce some digestive pyrotechnics so I won't even be faking it. But I don't want to have to do it! I'm almost 23 (two more weeks), I work full time at a career-job, and yet, I'ms till poorer than if I worked at a call centre.

This is somewhere I promised myself I wouldn't be; I worked breifly in Grande Prairie Alberta, which is, essentially, hell. Having a tea party. in the middle of the prairies. The work wasn't bad, but as far as money went...oof. I drove away from a gas station once after filling because my card got rejected. More than one can of tuna found it's way into my purse, and i was still only eating twice a day and booking my life around events that would feed me (little tip for PR people- if you feed us, we will come). I've played that script, cried in those parking lots, hid from my landlord, and smuggled sea food out of an IGA. I don't want to be there again, and I promised myself I wouldnt' be when I entered 'real life part deux' and moved out of my parents house (where I crashed for an interesting several months between Grande Prairie and Halifax) to come back East for work.

It's pathetic. It's just entirely demoralizing. Particularily considering that my mother 'cashed out a bond' (I look at it more as my mother giving me money without actually giving me money, as current parent-child relations are basically at cold war levels. I'm Russia. They're the states. if I talk to them at all the finger twitches towards the big red nuclear-party button) for me last week. And I'm wondering: where did that money go?

*brief sideline to my rant. Some of you may be wondering: why doesn't she just call her parents for a small loan to get her from now until payday on the 8th? Several reasons, really, and most of them are none of your business. Sufice it to say after 5 months of them floating me out west, and a fairly hefty loan they gave me to pay for my car and the moves back and forth across the country which I, ahem, only ever made one payment on (apparently the loan is growing too, because my dad charged me a very reasonable interest rate of two points above prime. at this rate my descendants will be paying them off), that gravy train has been derailed, melted down, and turned into pop cans. Also, calling them would be a giant hit to my pride: there was some fairly negative "you'll be back in two months you ungreatful dumbass" behavior before I left this latest time, and calling for moeny would basically be admitting I am A Great Big Failure (again, not news), who should just, as my father suggests, quit this industry entirely, event hough I love it. Go back to school. become a teacher (yeah like that'll pay well).
Thus endeth sidebar*

and back to the rant:

And I look and realize I bought gas and groceries and wiper fluid and topped up my phone and went to a movie. All of these things are small. They're not big. I didn't gamble or smoke or throw it about at greased up male strippers brandishing their genitalia. It's just gone.

maybe there's a magical place where all my money goes to hide; there the underpants knomes frolic with my lost dryer-socks and the majority of my paycheque.

I might have to get a little knome-homocidal.