Monday, July 25, 2011

frugal frau

It's no secret that I'm real sweet on a good bargain. Though I have always sought out good deals like Sherlock Holmes on a mad mystery, it's gotten to be even more of an art as of late. I realized upon graduating college that I had an exorbitant amount of expenses and virtually nothing left over for fun or frivolities. So I got creative. Here is a small compilation of some of my thrify finds.
If I want to see a movie, I wait until it goes to the budget theater-$1.50.
I, like any other woman in America need one to four new pair of underwear from time to time. Underwear are ridiculously over-priced. I refuse to spend $10 on a pair of fabric that wraps itself around my nether regions. I will pay $2.50 or less. Absurd you say. Nope, I religiously check the clearance sections at almost any department store I shop at and lo and behold: Valentine's day lace-$1.75/Bright red and blue summer cotton-$.80/Silky beige with ribbons-$2.00
One of my worst weaknesses is antiques. And most of those are more than my shopping price range of $5. But with an arsenal of self-restraint I will wait until I find beautiful pieces of furniture, mirrors or home decor at St. Vinny's or roadside sales. I recently found a petite old lamp, think Aladdin and rubbed it to see if a genie would come out and give me more money to buy the retro chairs I wanted for $60. No luck. But the gold genie lamp was $1.76 and quite fetching. I bought it for good luck in New York.
And clothes! Oh the clothes I crave. Again, I don't even tempt myself anymore by looking at full price. If it's not %75 off good riddance I say. I was on vacation a few weeks back and had the uncanny luck of going into St. Vinny's on fill a bag for $5 day. I was with four of my sisters who are equally budget-conscious. We decided to split a bag and each contribute one dollar. With my expert clothes rolling skills, we each came home with the skirts, shirts, pants and sweaters that our hearts desired. All in all we each got about five pieces and had over $60 worth of clothing in the bag.
Why didn't we just all spring for our own bag? Because we didn't each need or want a whole bag full. And look at that. New wardrobe-$1 each.
I impart this little bit of wisdom because upon talking to others about ya know the economy, job down-sizing, feeding family's of ten, we've realized it's not just nifty thrifty to seek out $.80 underwear and $1 haircuts (going get that done on Wednesday) it's pretty darn practical.
Happy spending my friends!

Thursday, July 21, 2011


How about this 100 degree heat we're having? I am not sure what I hate more-talk of the weather or this preposterous heat. Currently these steamy temps are making a mockery of my already mediocre appearance. My hair looks like Ms. Frizzle, my cheeks are constantly as ruddy as a fresh tomato and I have no energy to put on anything that lives in the same neighborhood as style. In short I look like a sweaty farmer's mule-faced daughter.
In other news I am offering in home care to a severely embittered 90 yr-old woman while getting my affairs in order for the big move and it's given me a lot of time to think about my writing, photography, the usual. I of course have come to the foregone conclusion that the only person standing in the way of my success, is... well lil 'ol frizzy me. So I did what I do best and made several lists of proactive ideas and feel a pinch better.
I also recently dyed my hair red and then bamm-o! ran into an old red-headed crush of mine, serendipitous? No; he turned out to be a bit of a letdown. Turns out the only redhead I am fond of is Lucille Ball and her hair was about as naturally red as mine.

Upon some intense pondering while at work I realized that I am putting all my proverbial eggs in the Big Apple Basket. Despite the fact that I have yet to be published, gotten to the svelte size 6 I dream of, okay fine, 12 will do, I somehow have this fanciful notion that once I swipe the dust off my boots in Brooklyn that I will be well wildly together... let me do the movie preview version, because that's how it plays in my mind and you'll get it. Accompanied of course by a peppy new Natasha Beddingfield song.

Sturos Takes New York

Cut to me frolicking in Central park in dark denim skinny jeans, or jeggings, whichever is easier for you to imagine, an over-sized cable knit sweater most often worn by fishermen of Maine, but very offhandedly trendy for a svelte New Yorker such as myself. I am laughing gaily at something my GQ-esque boyfriend said, who is accompanying me. Cue Natasha. We are off to some trendy gala of sorts. I am carrying a manuscript in my titanic sized designer hobo bag. And fast forward to me riding on the subway looking again, painfully hip, having had a heated debate with GQ,and also pondering when my novel will be published, but it'll all work out, this is the movie preview of my life, obviously, and even if Natasha mentions heartbreak, she also says to be yourself and embrace life and it'll all work out.

That's the shorthand. The preview of course. To be certain if I do indeed work things out with GQ, stop eating chocolate chip cookies and get published you must watch the entire movie. Or follow me to New York. Or tell me to introduce myself to delusion because we are clearly in an intimate coupling.

Oh Natasha, sometimes we are indeed trapped in a circle. You said it sister.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

I guess this means we can't be friends

Vacation. God love it. I have had the sweet delectability of having a few weeks away from reality to ponder life, anxiously await New York, and attempt a slew of watersports. In my 25th year of life I actually waterskied, well for a brief moment I was indeed on skis, in the water, moving in a forward motion, grasping the handle, only to get overly giddy, feeling so victorious that I promptly lost my balance and face-planted into the water giving my chin a nice case of water burn.
I even attempted wakeboarding and back flips off the raft. What's that you say, Cassandra, wakeboarding, waterskiing, and back flips in one week? Why that's madness, sheer madness! Yes, tis. But I guess I've got all sorts of ambition up my sleeves as of late. I am trying to do my 25th year justice.
Currently I am sitting in my sister's posh college apartment in Marquette, having already babbled with old friends, frolicked about in Lake Superior and squeezed in a hike. The hike was one of the first ones I attempted when I attended college here and re-hiking it after so long a time, instantly brought me back to one of my first times on the trail with one of my first loves.
Gosh, I felt so cool bringing him to that spot that I felt I myself had discovered. When in reality, this hike is in the middle of a park, only about a mile or two from town, yet I fancied myself Magellan, when I smugly swept my arms across the rugged cliffs jutting into the Superior, seeing if he was as impressed with me as I was.
Even though I brought him on a thrilling hike he'd never before experienced, introduced him to Wendy's fries dipped in frosty's, and bought him Eminem's album Encore, the relationship didn't last. Too sad for him. It's not everyday such an olympian, explorer, hip mixer of foods and flavor waltzes into your life man. Seize it. Carpe, Cassandra.
I say this in jest as I know said first college love is now married and because I am feeling fun and fancy free here on vacation. Oh and I got hit on in the deli today. I got the elusive double take. Yes! And then I was told with a smile like mine I must always get my way. I resisted the urge to guffaw and instead played it coy and collected, swatting my hand in the air like oh stop, you sweet man, while inwardly smiling like a deranged Cheshire cat.
I left the grocery store with aforementioned smile, almost drunk with delight but my balloon slowly deflated when I realized he could've gotten my number. I would've gladly forked over the digits most frequently used by my mother.
Ah, well, still it felt nice. I guess this means we can't be friends.