Somewhere in La Jolla, California, there is the sound of a crying wallet and a rumbling stomach. Meanwhile, Ben Sherman is laughing his Union Jack ass off. It's been nearly a month but I'm still recuperating from my New York trip, to think that three and a half days in one city could take such a financial chunk from me. I might as well have said, "Here, this is my right arm, it may not be as valuable as my left, but it's been good to me these last twenty-odd years." Then watch Manhattan take a cleaver to my body. So now I'm hungry and I want some gyros and perhaps a Greek salad but it's too cold for me to leave my apartment. (50 degrees? That's near hypothermia to me.) I'm also too lazy to drive. But it doesn't matter, because I've been telling myself that I shouldn't buy anything until I get Coachella squared out of the way. That's 300-400 dollars, wham bam, out of my hands and into Goldenvoice's. So no more off-campus food. The terrible thing is, I'm now left with only cafeteria food and I've come to loath that stuff. It doesn't count as food. It's stuff. Stuff you might find on the floor, or in between the couch cushions. I might as well resort to ramen for the next month in this insane attempt to save money for Coachella.
Starvation? Is it really key to my happiness? Perhaps, if it could afford me a PlayStation/wii, an external hard drive, noise-cancelling headphones, a DVD burner, a new camera, coachella tickets, and a box of See's Nuts and Chews thrown in for kicks. (What a tech geek's wet dream list.)
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