A Broke-Ass That Practices What We Preach

 

Lucky 7

Lucky 7 at the International Bar

As I sit in the International Bar (thanks to Bobby’s recommendation), I’m staring at a picture of what looks to be Bettie Page. I exchange texts with my sister about the Earthquake that hit Virginia. You know the one everyone on the east coast claims they felt. Public Enemy’s “Don’t Believe the Hype” plays in the background as I drink my beer. The bartender tells her boss to “fuck off” in a playful manner.

I don’t go back to work for another two days so I’m trying to take this precious time to get the city under my feet. Broke-asses, it’s important to appreciate your free time. Work takes so much life from us and it sucks. Even if you don’t get the weekends off you should still enjoy yourself. (For example, tomorrow I’m going to the last House of Vans summer bash tomorrow that Carrie posted.) Life is too short so you should make it a point to try something new when you get the chance to.

One guy in bar yells “Okay, everybody keep drinking. No casualties so far from the Earthquake.” The Beatles’ “All I Need Is Love” plays as I enjoy my “Lucky Seven” before I move on. The summer is coming to a slow end. College students will be in class soon (if they already aren’t), skin exposure will soon become scarce and the temperature will drop as the weeks go by.

I’ve moved on to a city park with a sprinkler system. The sounds of children having fun will never get old. The peaceful breeze creeps up on me like the pigeons that stroll by my feet. Construction in the background serves as a reminder that the city is forever altering itself. A teenager bops his head to the music on his iPod as he walks by. Was he listening to the same song that his father did in his walk-man 20-years ago when he walked by that same street corner?

People believe that the city has changed and what the kids are doing today just isn’t the same. Bullshit. You just got older and the youth has driven you out of your rebellious roles. The city’s make up is the same. What’s the difference today? Their lipstick is just another shade of red. Hippies have become hipsters, yuppies have become an exclusive group of pompous inhabitants and the poor have remained poor. About 25-years ago I’d be writing this on a small notepad in my backpack. Today, I’m writing this on my iPad. Technology can help us but if used incorrectly it can become the death of us.

Thanks to another one of Bobby’s suggestions I’m now having a shot of “Ass Juice” in the Double Down Saloon. I must say that it’s quite delicious (although it could use more alcohol). It’s about five o’clock and I’ll be having my fourth beer of the day before I go visit a friend. I’m broke, young and my mom says I’m beautiful. And whether I’d be writing for this site or not I’d recommend Broke Ass Stuart to any fellow broke ass, just to let them know that they aren’t alone while having the time of their lives. Remember just because your broke doesn’t mean you can’t have fun. In fact, when you’re broke you have the most fun. So say “fuck it” and live life to the fullest. And as I’m about to leave, one of the patrons at the bar yells out “I can’t find my feet!” A smile spreads across my face and I think to myself, “Now these are the type of adventures you enjoy when you’re a broke-ass.”

 

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About the author

Enrique Grijalva - Mr. Minimum Wage

My father came, my mother saw...and I conquered. I encourage children to do drugs, I buy alcohol for teenagers, and I drink beer with the homeless. In my spare time, I attend art galleries for the FREE booze, I rub elbows with modish elephants, and I hammer six-inch nails into small penises. Stuart knighted me as Broke-Ass King of New York. You've been warned.