Tips on how to live in poverty #2 More Condoms (I already screwed up the series by lying to you in my first post)

So before we get to today's tip, I figure I should make a caveat or condition or some other vaguely but not quite appropriate c-word about this mini series of how to live in poverty. It kind of really only applies to people living in the US. And it will only ever occasionally provide truly sensible tips, like coupon cutting or carpooling, but lor' help me none so boring.

So yeah, the subtitle of today's entry, I already lied to you. In the last entry I recommended you spend $2 on condoms with the two billion percent savings you got by spending $1 instead of $20 on a pregnancy test. (200%? 2,000%? fuck, I'm terrible at math)

But here's the real deal:
#2: NEVER PAY FOR CONDOMS. How much do you shell out for a pack of Trojans or even the cheapo Lifestyles at Walgreens or wherever you go? TOO MUCH because the thing is, you can always get condoms free. Hmm? What's that you say? FREE, I say! Community agencies are dying (ugh, sometimes literally shriveling up for lack of funds) to give away condoms for free. (So maybe while you're snagging their free shit, say "thanks.) Places like Planned Parenthood or your local HIV-Testing or LGBT(QIA)-Friendly facilities all have them sitting in little tan woven baskets on the counter. Most of the time you can just walk-up and grab a handful and leave. No one asks you questions. In fact, the people who work/volunteer/slave in these places are happy when shit like that happens. Then they know that they're contributing to a world with fewer unwanted babies, abortions and STDS. And come on, guys, safer sex is totally better sex. Also, some open AA or Al-Anon meetings have such baskets of free-condoms sitting out. FREE. FREE, GUYS, FREE!!! THAT MEANS NO MONEY. So get over yourself and the erroneous idea that "those places" aren't somewhere you want to be. Free stuff, dudes, and better yet, free condoms, and free happier, better, safer sex. Go forth and don't multiply.

Tips on how to live in poverty #1 Knocked-Up(?) Times: Diapers & Condoms

So most of my followers probably know me personally, and you'll know that I'm a single mom of a one-year old, working two part time jobs, and going back to graduate school. Which is enough to validate anyone's struggles to dog-paddle above the federal poverty line, even without the still growing student debt currently totaling more than my taxable income in 2011.

Fortunately for me, I've got parents who are enamored of my poop-machine and let me and the entropic monster live in their house (a considerably nicer than one I'd be able to afford on my own right now) in exchange for doing the grocery shopping, cooking, and not using the television during Jeopardy or Judge Judy. 

Still, even without rent due on a monthly basis, costs of Life don't stop: insurance, diapers, caffeinated coffee, you know, the basics.


What follows will be a series of short tips on how to live cheaply. Most of my tips are awesomely shameless. And by shameless, I mean, they don't always color in the lines of what a nice white girl having grown up protestant in West Texas is generally expected to do. And by awesome, I mean, they save money in a real way.

#1 Buy pregnancy tests from The Dollar Tree. Seriously guys and gals alike: quit spending $20 on those First Response or Preggo Now? tests that you get at the drug store, grocery store, or convenience store. Dollar Tree tests accurately confirm a positive pregnancy. How much are you out? Less than the cost of a single condom! Then take that other $19 you would have spent on pretty packaging and marketing promises, and spend it on a package of diapers at Target. (Hidden tip #1) They are farrrr better than Walmart's brand, and cheaper than all the others. Unless your test turned up negative. Then you deserve five $3 drinks at your local happy hour. With a nice celebratory $2 tip for your server. (I'm assuming you spent the other two dollars on condoms. Which is what you should have done in the first place).

I don't lie.

Living With Old People (Or: Intergenerational Household Quirks)

More on the pill-stashing. Apparently is mostly valid. Over this last weekend my father ended up in the ER with a giant kidney stone, emergency surgery, and then another follow-up surgery. Sooo...I guess if you have a history of kidney stones it's okay to put a Lortab or two of your daughter's in the occasional pair of pants. Just in case.

My mother is another quirky one. Who refuses to believe she's in old age. Got all sorts of offended at the post in which I mentioned my "elderly" parents. Pure statistics people. Given average life-span, you're past middle-age, which is old age, which equals elderly. Let your ego go free. It's okay to be an ego-nudist, when the alternative is an ego-hoarder.
(not sure that analogy made sense, but I'm a headcold and a glass of wine past bed time, so fuck it.)

So yeah. The most interesting thing about living with my mother is her prattling. Yep, like a two year old (there, mom, I reinstated your youth for you) wandering around the house at her daily business talking away. To....who the FUCK knows. An example of her monologous conversation:
"Where's my doo-lolly [sic]? I think I left it....I swear it was...okay...now...now then...if I'm gonna make eggs, how much pepper should I....Did Gordon [my father] put the hand-mixer in....there?...no....where....I wonder what I have scheduled for the....OH MY GOSH THIS PHOTO IS ADORABLE...[gasp] and there's a video! [plays video approximately 30 times]..Annie Gordon you guys have to come see this... ... ... Oh my. Oh my my my my my. ANNIE COME SEE THIS--this photo is why people say your daughter is beautiful. tsk. tsk. It's so unfortunate when people have ugly babies."
The thing is, my mom has gloriously embraced her role as grandmother. And loves to get in touch with all her grandmother friends and compare her granddaughter's beauty, wit, charm, and intelligence to other infants she quasi-knows through facebook. And the kicker is she says EVERY thought process OUT LOUD. Which means I know a good deal more about information that's usually protected by HIPAA than is palatable. But whatever, I also get poop on my hand/harm/hair/clothing at least once a day changing a dirty diaper. Such is my life.

Also, I don't dress slutty. I just wear my shorts and a tank-top year-round in my house because my father keeps the temperature above 70 degrees in December. I think in July he sets it to 78. At least I get to show off my hairy legs.