Writing about being poor has gotten popular lately. But what's missing is a rich person telling us what it's like to be poor.
Most people have probably had a shitty, disposable job at one point. Maybe you're in one now, reading this on your phone in a futile attempt to escape reality (IT GETS BETTER).
I have no idea what your family likes, but I know what they hate, because no one likes this shit.
Before you put a down payment on that Colt .45 and head to the spy store for a sack full of hidden cameras, you'd better read this.
Some people sit around and daydream about becoming a surgeon or a member of the special forces. Others go out and do something about it.
Whatever work you put in to fighting a ticket pales in comparison to the crazy lengths some people have gone to not have to pay for a traffic violation.
You don't necessarily have to earn a fancy degree and apply for expedition funding in order to get your apocalyptic-bone on.
I'm Ms. White, and I'll tell you everything you need to know about legal whoredom.
I shouldn't be writing this.
If you want a real party, a party so awesome, it stops being awesome and starts being more like a violent, bloody war on the concept of fun, well, friend, look no further.
You've heard the phrase 'desperate times call for desperate measures.' These measures must've been drug-induced.
Suddenly we wonder if we're all just waiting to be suckers.
I thought maybe it would be a fun thing to pick apart the regrets that mold us into who we are and that can, if we let them, tear us apart.