You're like the thief who isn't the least bit sorry he stole, but is terribly, terribly sorry he's going to jail.
In times of turmoil we all turn to role models in our lives in order to try to figure out how to handle the curve balls being hurled at our faces. As a natural born member of the GRITS nation (girls raised in the south, how obnoxious is that?), my go to role model is none other than Miss Scarlett O'Hara.
Step One: Marry a child that has no concept of what he is getting in to and that will die so soon that you won't actually have to consummate the marriage.
Last summer I dated this teenager that lives on the Upper West Side. I won't go so far as to say that the relationship was unconsummated, but he sure was young as hell... in any case, I guess I could marry him and assume that his excessive drug use will take him from me before I get preggo (it helps that all of the drugs have seriously diminished his sperm count). If the US Government can declare a war on drugs it is totally reasonable for me to consider him a casualty of war and myself as a proud widow of a valiant soldier. Honestly, isn't it more honorable to die as a result of defending your right to imbibe an excessive number of your mother's pain killers than to die at the hands of a northerner in defense of keeping human beings as slaves?
Step Two: Start a farm, turn your curtains into a ball gown, and try to get a handsome rogue to get you out of debt.
This can be difficult in New York City. However, I do have a fire escape. Also, it doesn't seem like a financially responsible plan to be growing cotton, so I have decided to grow marijuana. I have a complex hydroponic system on my fire escape that is being tended by Mammy (my dog six) and Prissy (aka Pugssiah):
I don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' no babies!
So, I've got the dogs harvesting pot, but it's still not earning me enough money. The dogs tend to nap a lot and don't really understand the nuances of hydroponics. I don't actually have poitiers to pull down and turn into a gown, but I have blinds. A dress made of venetian blinds is not super impressive, let me tell you. My boyfriend, in New Orleans, was NOT IMPRESSED. When I showed up swathed in plastic he didn't even have to look at the palms of my hands to recognize that I was in financial ruin. I'm reasonably sure that the drawstring on my petticoat gave it all away. Whatever, screw him, he doesn't have the money to help me anyway.
Step Three: Marry a sibling's beau and then make sure they die defending my honor.
I only have one sister and she isn't dating anyone as far as I know. However, my brother's girlfriend is about to go into law school, which means she will be earning MONEY. So, I'm gonna marry her. We'll get married in Massachusetts (which New York will recognize) and I'll make her miserable while I spend her money until she is killed defending my honor against one of the men that have masturbated on me in the subway. Sorry, li'l bro. In the end it's all for the good of the family.
Step Four: Now that I have ruined my relationship with my siblings (by marrying a woman I don't love that my brother DID love and getting her killed) and getting my puppies involved with the DEA, I am finally left with the last resort of marrying the man that I *ACTUALLY* love who will, at this point, be finished with Nursing School. This may not sound like much, but in NYC nurses (and murses in particular) tend to earn a great deal of money. So we'll get married. If only this could be my happily ever after. Unfortunately we will have to have a beautiful daughter, full of promise, that dies while attempting to ride a subway car (by "ride a subway car" I do mean ride on top of a subway car, as if she were attempting to subdue a raging bull. She will think that she is wrangling a local train, but it will actually be an express that takes off her head. What a beautiful little fool.). After raping me and then throwing me down a flight of stairs he will eventually leave me with tons of money and no human beings that love me.
So... that's my plan. I may end up alone and intensely depressed in the end, but I'll be financially stable. Ugh, god, I can't think about this anymore. I'll think about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.
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