I live like a trust-funder on less than 13k a year and you can too.

this is my pretty sister Elsa being chic on public transport.

I’m currently too broke to leave the house– and I’m having the BEST VACA EVR. Magnum P.I. is streaming on Netflix AND two words: Vinho Verde. Consider all my contacts DELETED (sorry bros, grow some chest hair and I’ll reconsider).

By now, we can all agree that having money is for the homely and sad who can’t get by on their good looks and charm. People who have money or are concerned with the pursuit of it are morally vacant and spiritually dead. Not to mention illiterate and definitely not 10s. I barely work, but I’ve got a great tan, my embroidery could make you cry and I’m currently absorbing the grace of Olga Korbut through osmosis and youtube:

Here’s how to live like like a member of the idle rich: (But with friends, because everyone knows that rich people are boring and vacuous and responsible for luxury brands and their vicious war on subtlety [burn your counterfeit handbags yesterday everyone, you’re embarrassing yourselves])

First of all, stop going out. Bars are boring and no one is hot. When’s the last time the bro/ad of your dreams made eyes at you during some drunk boomer’s sad rendition of  “Some Kind of Wonderful” while you were waiting twenty minutes for a six dollar microbrew? Ok except for that one time which turned out to be a huge mistake, NEVER. Make some friends, have a porch and pick up a $5.49 bottle of Sauv Blanc. No awkward encounters with people you’ve formerly thrown up against a wall in the bar bathroom, BONUS.

bkyd bbq > sweaty bar full of 4s.

Make your own food. All you really need is some Udon noodles and Shoyu and you can trick people into thinking they’re dining with Ina Garten. Making fresh food is easy plus everyone will want to marry you. I made salsa the other day and now I’m like STOP SEXTING ME EVERYONE. Just grab a can of tomatoes, salt, pepper, garlic and onions and pour some Sriracha on it. Get creative. Recipes are for mainstreamers.

the phrase “domestic goddess” is by this point exhausted, but basically.

When your backyard is a paradise, you’re on vacation every day! Who needs Ibiza when you have this:

christ, I'm jealous of myself.

Also, sell your car.  I ride my bike everywhere and I basically get a tax break for having this butt. And that, friends, is true wealth.