“I’ll take you out for your birthday, but it has to cost less than $50.”

In the preceding events, (where I declared myself broke once again), I had forgotten about something important that I had to do this week.

I had to take one of my oldest and dearest friends out for a birthday dinner.

All I had managed to save in this debacle was a fifty dollar bill, so I knew I had to make sure that the dinner for the both of us cost less than $50.  So the anxiety that I had over her picking which restaurant she wanted to go to (I had previously told her to choose where she wanted to eat).  She did pick one (3 Brewers), it was a cute laid-back restaurant in the middle of downtown Ottawa that had a huge selection of beer…yay.

Me being me, I went to the website and I downloaded a PDF of the menu and I studied (as I usually do before I eat at a new restaurant) and I calculated whether or not two meals would come up to $50.

When my friend ordered her food, I almost squeaked.  She ordered a pulled pork sandwich and a sample of 5 different beers, but you know, I kept my composure.  After I asked for the bills, I sat there in silence waiting for the waitress to bring me the bill.

It was $44.

Thank you God.


“Mom, Dad…I’m broke again.”

After a fun weekend out partying in Toronto — that consisted of many vodka crans, being accosted by bottle service girls, a couple of Minions and an expensive Uber to the club — the following Monday, I decided to check up on my bank account to see how she was doing.  When I did, my bank account was not okay, it was on the verge of death.  She needed a medic and STAT.

I could not remember the last time I had seen such a number so low in my bank account.  I did a double-take, but no, my money was gone, it had disappeared.  In my sheer denial, I decided to scroll through the transactions to see if I had been a victim of credit card fraud.


I check my chequing account to see if it had been tampered with.


I could already hear my mother yelling at me, as she had given me about $200 a couple of days ago when I visited home and I could hear my dad telling me for the umpteenth time to "get a job".  I knew I couldn't face them on the phone or having to say for at least 20 minutes "I know, I'm sorry" or "I don't know what happened" or my favourite "being a human in this economy is hard".

So instead of calling my parents respectively to give them the grave update of my fallen bank account, I created a group chat with the both of them and texted them that I was broke again.

They both left me on "read".

Maybe they've had enough of me?