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The ABC’s of Broke-itude

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Being a Broke Ass – It’s elementary, my dear.

Abstinence. From fancy ass parties in the Meatpacking District where a gin and tonic will set you back fourteen bucks.

Blue, purple. Blue, purple. Blue, purple. AKA – all you see after a particularly draining day of job hunting on Craigslist.

Crocodile Lounge. You know after you drink all that delicious beer, you’re going to want something to munch on – why not shoot two birds with one stone with Croc’s free-pizza-with-a-beer-deal? Speaking of food …

Dollar pizza is the broke-ass’s best friend.

Eating at home. Every night. Instead of out with your friends. Who don’t have student loans. Come to think of it, E could also stand for envy.

Flirting your way into a round of shots or beers at the bar (compliments of that dude (or gal) whose pants you were busy charming off). Ladies and gents, this is what bars were put on this earth for.

Groupon. If you must see a movie theater movie, hit up Groupon for their occasional 2 for 1 deals.

Hustle. Broke-itude is a temporary state of being for the hustler. Those guys doing acrobatics on every car of the subway are probably raking it in.

Ice cream for dinner. Because it’s all you had left in the fridge. And it’s delicious and you can totally justify this to the aren’t-you-on-a-diet voice in your head and it kind of makes sense.

Jobs, duh. One’s never enough!

Kicking pigeons. Is a no-cost, surprisingly good time had by all (except maybe the pigeons). And – my animal loving friends – it never actually hurts the pigeons because contrary to their balloon-like figures, they are rather quick on the uptake when a giant foot comes hurtling their way. Believe me, I’ve tried. It is maddening.

Limos. HA! Just kidding – did you not read the title of this article?

Multivitamins. Because there’s no way in hell you’re actually eating right on a $5 a day meal plan.

New York City. Where you’ll feel normal for forking over 50 to 75% of your income in rent. Let’s not think too much about this one mmkay.

Open bars. ‘Nuff said.

Papaya Dog. Cheap, cheap, cheap, and totally disgusting in the best (but most of the time, worst) possible ways.

Quarantine, n. Used in a sentence: You might find yourself feeling as if you are in quarantine when all your friends can afford to go to Coachella, Bonnaroo, and Governor’s Ball, and you’re stuck going to Four Knots all by yourself. Refer back to letter “e”.

Ramen. Top Ramen, that is. Still working your way up to Ippudo.

Scoutmob. If you dropped all your cash on a smart phone, you might as well use this handy app to save you at least 50% off cool places to eat.

Tradesies. Whether it’s a pal’s cool necklace, a favor, or your mom’s car, the barter system is still alive, kicking, and in good use.

Union Square Park. Lounging in the park on a warm summer day surrounded by hundreds of other city dwellers soaking up the free Vitamin D doesn’t make you feel so alone after all.

Veganism. Sorry, this is not cheap but somehow it seems like everyone I know is down with the Daiya on zero cash-ola. Someone please explain this phenomenon to me.

Walking. Everywhere. Because you spent your last $2.50 on that damn corn dog at Papaya Dog.

Buffalo eXchange. So sue me, X is a hard letter. Besides, something had to be said about thrift store shopping!

YMCA. Because it’s the only “gym” in New York City you can afford.

Zipping around town on your bike or skateboard. After a month or two, it will have paid for itself!

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Patricia Scull - Patty the Pauper

Patricia Scull - Patty the Pauper

Patty loves cats, cheese, and irony, so although she is currently a petite Asian chick, she is well on her way to becoming a fat, smelly, cat lady later in life. Born in Korea and adopted to white people in the South, Patty spent her youth frolicking happily in the cornfields of eastern North Carolina. She currently lives in the East Village and can be found boozing her way through the bars (and streets) of New York.