I love treats. A brownie and Diet Coke are my ideal breakfast, though a chocolate glazed old fashioned donut works too.
I am cheap when it comes to the day-to-day. But once or twice a year, I think nothing of dropping several hundred dollars in a weekend playing cards. Of course I’d rather win, but I definitely budget to lose.
What starts as a free pile of books ends up being a $15.50 pile of books and counting.
I will gladly, any day of the week, spend 30 minutes in the aisles of a drugstore, sneakily opening shampoo bottles to get a whiff, trying to wipe the shampoo off my face after I’ve inadvertently snorted some onto my nose.
Somehow, once I crossed into adulthood and found myself in charge of feeding and funding myself, my love of candy started coming to light.
I’m not one to shame people for their soda-drinking or smoking habits, but, yikes.
Mario Bustillos, who is everyone’s pal (I met her last week, she is lovely!), reviews Tom Bissell’s collection of essays, Magic Hours, in the newly launched Los Angeles Review of Books and I could not stop laughing at this part.