Carrie Laven - Pretty Penniless
Not that long ago, I wrote a post for this very website which chronicled my experience as a sun-kissed, burrito-fed Californian living for three years in NYC. Soft of heart and fake blonder of hair, I bemoaned New York’s frigid winters, sleazy one-upping “networkers,” and lack of publicly-placed recycling bins.
Like millions of East Coasters, the recent Hurricane Sandy left me without power, heat, Internet, or phone reception for nearly a week. I also missed work during that time, which totally sucks because I get paid hourly, and the world knows that I am one seriously broke girl. Basically, I
Listen up, I took a handful of Film classes in college, watch tons of foreign movies on my home projector, and could be seen as what some may call a “film snob” (actually that last part’s not true– unless citing my favorite flick as Home Alone 2: Lost in New
I am a Californian living in New York City. I was born in the suburbs of Los Angeles, raised in the suburbs of San Diego, and went to college in the Bay Area, so I’d kind of consider myself somewhat of a semi-expert on Californianity. Living as a Broke-Ass-West-Coaster-Gone-East for
In my humble opinion, the best part about visiting This Nation’s Great Capital is all of the FREE Smithsonian museums that Washington, DC has going on. Would I like to learn about everything from airplanes to the decorative arts? Why yes, especially if I can do so for FREE! Because
A brand new collection of Broke-Ass Stuart's writing made up of some of his most famous pieces and new things never before published.
The other day, I received a plain envelope in the mail. I wasn’t expecting it, and was perplexed as to what it could possibly be. The return address was from one “Crystal Skull” in Chicago. “Crystal? Who the hell is Crystal? I don’t know any ‘Crystal’ in Chicago,” I thought
I’ve been re-watching a lot of old episodes of Freaks and Geeks with my Nick Andopolis/Sam Weir hybrid of a boy toy lately (all of the philosophical stoner wisdom of Andopolis without the clinginess, and the gentlemanly quality of Weir without the hairless pits– what more could a lady ask