Your Unemployed Daughter

photo credit: jessicareeder

In the spirit of this possibly pumpkin-pie free season (noooooo!), I’ve been thinking: Wouldn’t it be nice to do something nonprofity? Something good for others?

After all, I have a rather flexible schedule, and I love to fold coats and stack cans in my kitchen cabinets alphabetically. I tend to enjoy people, and sometimes, if they’re polite and don’t throw things at me, I like to help them. Maybe it’s time to apply those talents to a greater (okay, okay, not “greater,” necessarily—but different? More needy?) cause than myself.

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The gang headed over to South Boston today, attempting to recover from the aftereffects of last night’s festivities with fries and much hydration at our old haunt, Lucky’s (a great little bar in Boston that offers a Sinatra Sunday brunch, live tunes included) near our old place of business.

Then on to the ICA to catch the last day of the very enjoyable Shepard Fairey exhibit as well as some bizarre and intriguing art installations, such as “Sentimental Disappointment”—which might well characterize our own feelings about unemployment now and again and included a 25-minute video of a man stabbing and ripping a futon to shreds. Has he met Whori?

At any rate, this postcard caught the eye of S. in the gift shop, and she helped YUD out by holding it steady for a good picture. It’s by witty and weird and often hilarious artist David Shrigley, who seems to understand the feelings of the jobless and hot-dog lovers alike.

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photo credit: ShellyS
Your Unemployed Daughter has never been the thriftiest sort. Remember how you had to put her on a strict budget when all those charges at the Georgetown Ann Taylor showed up during her college years? (She is loathe to recall exactly how many pink twin sets and linen skirts she actually purchased, or why, but she agrees that it was, indeed, grotesque.)

She got better after she graduated, toned down her “champagne tastes on a beer budget” (thanks, Mom) habits for a bit. She was particularly proud of the frugality evident in her choice of 33¢ boxes of off-brand macaroni and cheese.

Actually, it was nothing to be proud about, as that was all that remained in her checking account during those years of a $25,000 salary, 2 roommates, and a walkup frequented by johns visiting our next-door neighbors. Still, back then she had fun crashing parties and eating all the cheese her tiny stomach could hold, or stealing salt and pepper shakers and wine glasses from restaurants when the need arose.

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