Don't cry poverty to me, you have champagne tastes with a beer pocketbook

Why do you do that? You waltz around with Coach purses, gel manicures, wearing True Religion jeans, driving a new car every two years...yet when I tell you I am going on vacation, you sigh sadly and claim you can't afford a vacation right now. Do I appear blind to you? It's abundantly clear that you aren't wearing jeans from six years ago like I am, you can easily afford a little getaway. When I hear you tell someone how you wish you could go to a concert with them but it costs way too much, I want to take your Louis Vuitton key chain and shove it down your lying throat. There's a vast difference between poor and cheap. I am one of the cheapest people you will ever meet, so I know.
As someone who uses L'Oreal Preference to color her own hair because I cannot fathom giving someone else $65 to do the same thing I can do in my own bathroom for $7.99 on sale, I completely understand the cheapo mentality.  Shopping at Ulta instead of Sephora for the same reason, and managing to paint my own nails more often than I visit Lily at her salon, I am the ultimate skinflint. The word clearance for me is like a day at the spa with wine and cheese for most others.  It's like winning the lottery, finding something on sale, marked down again, and you have a gift card jammed in your wallet just waiting to be spent. That's true elation...for me.  It's not that I can't afford the finer things, I can.  I cannot see forking over wads of my hard-earned cash for something I know I can get cheaper elsewhere or online.
Now we can discuss those other people.  You know at least one, or five of them. They complain about gas prices, posting nonsensical bullshit on Facebook about "Flinstoning" their cars if the prices go up any more.  Yet, they drive Mercedes Benzes!  Maybe you should trade that fancy set of tires in for a fucking Prius and shut your hole. I'm not claiming to drive a Honda Civic and wax poetic about how frugal I am on this front. We drive a Lexus RX 350 and Nissan Murano in this house. Some things are worth the extra scratch. However, you also won't hear me moaning and groaning about gas prices or posting all over FB and Twitter about how oil companies are raping my wallet. It is what it is, and no amount of snarky stati will change it.

Please bitch to me about how broke you are while you are on your way to yet another expensive dinner out. Whine about your empty wallet with a mouthful of caviar and a glass of wine in your meaty paw. You are so convincing. Have you ever heard of cooking? That room in your house with the fridge full of wine, champagne, and beer? You've been in there, haven't you? Starbucks is one of my favorite places to visit, but I'll be damned if I am going to spend $3.55 or more on every cup of joe that passes my lips. I make a mean pot of coffee and have cute mugs from which to drink the elixir of heaven. And as you go out to another lunch, keep your lament over how little is in your checking account in your head. I carry a lunchbox to work and make my own lunch every day.  My cooking is pretty slamming, leftovers make a fine and FREE lunch, dumbass. But that would put a wrench in your complaining, wouldn't it? Sucks balls.
Your very young children have their own iPads and iPhones, and wouldn't dream of not having the latest and greatest video game consoles and coolest theme parties. Tell me again how hard it is to make ends meet.  Spoiling the shit out of your spawn and buying them everything their little hearts desire is bad enough. Bewailing your financial status while texting your 3rd grader on their smartphone, makes you look like even more of a dim bulb. As if you weren't already. Christ on the cross, do you even hear yourself or do the words fall out of your gaping hole without your consent? Kids don't need tons of things, they need time and attention.  There's where you should be giving till it hurts, bitchass.
My mom used to say some people cried poverty with a loaf of bread under their arm. I never fully understood it until I was an adult.  Now, surrounded by all these people who just left the very pricey bakery, I totally comprehend what she was telling me.  You people are fucking ridiculous. Buy all the shiny, sparkly, brand-spanking-new, top-of-the-line shit you can possibly fit in your refinanced times 3 house. Eat at all the finest restaurants rather than actually treating your children to a home-cooked meal, I'm sure they'll thank you for the great memories you haven't made. Pamper the shit out of yourself on the outside.  That is what matters right?  Leaving a HOT corpse behind for your family to admire.  But for Christ's holy sake, don't fucking bleat on and on to me about how little money you have. I'm pretty good at math, and I can add in my head. Don't expect me to believe you are impoverished while toting around that Louis Vuitton purse in your very regularly manicured hands. Are you friggin kidding me right now???