Oh, alcohol, how I miss you so.

 

Unfortunately for me (and Phoenix’s nightlife industry), my hectic schedule has rendered my social life practically non-existent.

 

Lucky for you, I’ve decided to share some of downtown’s best-kept happy hour secrets – OK, let’s be real, there are very few bars in this city (can you even call it that?) so you’ve probably been to them all, but here’s a friendly reminder of how to get your blood [alcohol content] pumping for $10 or less.

 

Brick Pizzeria and Wine Bar at Arizona Center: 455 N. 3rd St., 4:30 to 6 p.m.

 

• Keep it classy with a ladylike $5 glass of select wines paired with pesto stuffed artichokes for $3.
• Party like its Monday and fuel up like a football fan with $6 buffalo wings and a $3 Four Peaks draft.
• Feeling festive? Go for the spinach and artichoke dip for $5 with Brick’s $4 sangrias.

 

On a liquid diet? Happy hour drink prices begin at 11 AM. #winning

 

Centurion Restaurant: 214 W. Roosevelt St., Wednesdays, 5 to 9 p.m.

 

OK, so it’s not exactly a happy hour and not technically located in the heart of downtown, but it’s for sure worth the walk. The restaurant’s new tapas menu offered on Wednesday nights (Yes, I’ve mentioned this before) is a cheap eat to try with a wine you’ve probably never heard of, but will most definitely like.

 

While on any given night you could rack up a hefty bill, Centurion’s new menu boasts almost half a dozen baby plates of gourmet goodness – $3 sautéed potatoes and shitakes in white truffle butter or $5 andouille and baby shrimp cheddar risotto – to be paired alongside a $7 Chateau la Baronne from France, a red that boasts “blackberry kirsch and licorice” or a $5 glass of Portuga, a “white peach and a hint of honey” wine from Lisbon.

 

Get your drool on.

 

Frank Murray’s Turf Irish Pub: 705 N. 1st St., 4 to 7 p.m.

 

Again, yes I’ve mentioned this before, but it definitely deserves special note again. OK, so maybe I’ve got a soft spot for the place but it’s got a where-everyone-knows-your-name feel to it and I like it.

 

The best thing about Turf is its appetizers. The cultural Reuben pita with dips, the more risky shrimp cocktail or pan-seared tuna (come on, this is a landlocked state) and the more traditional chicken tenders or dozen wings are all fewer than $4 because of half-off happy hour. The drink specials don’t really match up to this level of awesomely-priced, but I’m OK with paying the average price of a beer.

 

At this point,  I’m OK with paying nearly anything for a beer.

 

(Exaggeration? Yes, I think so.)

 

Well, this was fun. Let’s do this again sometime.

It felt like a drug trade scene straight out of an overplayed crime drama.

 

“Hola,” he said.

 

The elderly, pot-bellied man went about his business as we spoke.

 

“Hola, ¿como estas?” I asked in reply.

 

“¿Bien, y tú?” he countered.

 

I played along with this precursory banter.

 

“Bien,” I said.

 

But he knew what I came for.

 

“¿Quieres tamales?” he asked.

 

I was at the Open-Air Market in downtown Phoenix.

 

Hosted in the parking lot of Phoenix Public Market located at the corner of Central Ave and Pierce Street, the market features an array of local venders.

 

While in the past I criticized the Public Market for its inflated price of ketchup, I gave the Open-Air a try in an attempt to see how lazy (just across the street, it is nearly a stone’s throw away) and cheap I could be but still wind up with some good eats.

 

My goal was simple: purchase a meal with only the money in my pocket.

 

I had $8.

 

This time, I wasn’t disappointed. And I walked away with $3 left.

 

Upon my arrival, I toured the market to give it a once-over and see which vendors would make it through the first round of cuts.

 

(Although it was against my better judgment, I did bypass the food trucks – Emerson Fry Bread and Short Leash, oh my! – as Friday is their rightful day of patronage.)

 

Having only been to the market once, I did remember Doctor Hummus. The doctor sold a variety of uniquely flavored homemade hummus, combos of which you can layer on your pita chips or bread – that’s the key, I was told ­– at $5 a tub. (Depending on which day you go, if you purchase three tubs, you’ll get a carton of pita chips or a bag of pita bread for free.)

 

Pita bread, so soft and delicious, with the zing of some jalapeno hummus would has satisfied my supper cravings, but it cost more than my budget.

 

The homemade guacamole is $7 because it comes in a larger tub. Delicious, yes, (everywhere you go, you get a sample) but I couldn’t make a meal of it.

 

Well, I supposed I could, but I feared my dinner buddy of the evening wouldn’t be too pleased, so I moved on.

 

Just yonder of Doctor Hummus was Wei of Chocolate.

 

 

Now, guiltily I will admit, I knew I wasn’t going to make a purchase. But the table looked so beautiful, and there were pretty dishes of samples laid out just for me to try. The friendly attendant behind the table even selects you a chocolate chunk to try with a set of chopsticks, adding class on top of it all.

 

I tried the chocolate blend with a hint of spice, bringing me back to my experience at a gourmet hot cocoa shop in Santa Fe. Although I wasn’t having chocolate for dinner, a small container was priced at $10 and a large bag was $20. While it would make a great stocking stuffer, I just wasn’t in the market for it in the middle of January.

 

After taking a quick swing past a closing produce stand – $2 per head of fennel, not too shabby – I stumbled upon an organic tea stand, which is nearly synonymous with the Public Market.

 

Even though I was looking for food, I was ready to be sold on some bonafide natural teatherapy, but it was just outside my financial reach. The loose tea leaf blends touted its natural energy-boosting, immune-system-cleaning effects and almost had me, until the ankle-length-coat-wearing polite tea-seller directed me toward the tamale man.

 

This was not the first time I had heard about the tamale man, but I was certain this would be the first time I would purchase a tamale.

 

And I had caught him just in time.

 

Like I said, he went about his business as we spoke, rolling up his canvas banner and packing away his belongings that laid atop the plastic foldable table.

 

“¿Quieres tamales?”

 

For sure, sir. For sure.

 

He was all out of the hot tamales, so he offered to me the ones that were frozen.

 

“Just throw ‘em in the microwave,” he said.

 

At 2 for $5, he asked me if I’d like a dozen.

 

We’ll just stick with the two, I told him.

 

And for two people, that was more than enough.

 

 

(OK, I added a side of rice! But really, it didn’t even need it.)

 

Happy with my purchase, I was nearly headed out before a stand called Rising Hy called to my attention with its hot sauce advertisement.

 

Lucky for my $3, the $5 bottle of hot sauce I waned (I  sampled all three offered, of course, but I only had my eye on one) to go with my tamales was out of stock.

 

This might not be my last visit to the Open-Air Market.

 

 

You can purchase a bottle of ketchup at Phoenix Public Market for $4.26.

 

I didn’t.

 

Instead, you can bet I headed over to Safeway and spent nearly $150 on much needed and clearly more appropriately-priced staples to fill the bare neglected shelves of my fridge.

 

Some of these deemed staples may seem more necessary than others, but all are nonetheless more than welcome in my home. And thanks to the presence of actual food in my apartment, I’ve made it two days with only purchasing a $2.13 cup of coffee (OK, and *maybe* a refill), which I’ve already established as the bane to my budget’s existence.

 

But upon further review, my incessant java purchases are more of a jab to my wallet in Phoenix than my hometown of Syracuse.

 

According to AreaVibes, a website “unlike anything else on the market” (or so says the site’s about page), offers detailed information, including the cost of living, regarding cities across the U.S.

 

The neat thing about the site is that it allows you to compare two cities, as if you were contemplating a move.

 

Side by side, Phoenix may have a higher overall score compared to Syracuse (77 to 73, respectively) but living irresponsibly proved to be much less expensive in my home upstate-New-York town.

 

Although AreaVibes’ calculation declares Phoenix to be 3.4 percent cheaper to live than Syracuse, a certain grading curve must be taken into account: While housing and utilities are cheaper in Phoenix than in Syracuse, my parents covered these expenses at home, so I technically don’t benefit from this decline in cost.

 

Then there’s transportation: Apparently transportation is less expensive in Phoenix than Syracuse. This makes some sense as the increased population here creates a greater demand for public transportation, but on top of this, gas sells for four cents less in Phoenix than at home. Not a huge saving, I agree, especially because I barely drive in Phoenix and rarely need gas, but I suppose every cent counts when you’re literally pinching pennies.

 

Finally, we get to the real kicker: In Phoenix, coffee is 42.1 percent MORE EXPENSIVE than in Syracuse. (While I realize this technically may not apply to me because I frequent a national chain more often than local shops, it is still important to make a note of it.)

 

Now, if only the website could evaluate ketchup prices by city. Certainly, my hometown would never require nearly $4.26 for the condiment that I consume with nearly every meal. I certainly *never* had to fill my pockets with the courtesy ketchup packets at fast food restaurants.

 

Maybe that’s why places like Turf and Delux only bring you ketchup in a fancy side dish: Are they keepin’ it classy or just conspiracy theorists attempting to fuel the purchases of ketchup?*

 

Pending further investigation.**

 

 

*Sarcasm.

**Sarcasm, again.

 

It was last Food Truck Friday that I realized I literally could not remember the last time I went grocery shopping. (Hence, the food truck trip, although I’d have to say, even a fridge full of food wouldn’t keep me away from this weekly treat.)

 

But in an effort to avoid spending money at the grocery store, and perhaps because I am lazy, I’ve been taking drastic measures: mooching off my friends.

 

Or according to the Merriam-Webster Online, I’ve sponged off my friends.

 

Yes, I’ve shamelessly and quite clearly unapologetically dipped into the courtesy of my friends to save me a trip to the supermarket:

 

• Too lazy to visit the grocery store, I traveled to San Diego to visit high school friends with my bubbly, blond can’t-drink-unfiltered-tap-water-because-its-dirty girl friend to reap the financial benefits of being their guests. (OK, so maybe this is not a direct cause-and-effect relationship, but it worked nonetheless.) Wined and dined and in the presence of chivalry, the trip really only cost each of us the price of gas.

• Thanks to the close proximity of one particular classmate, I avoided visiting the grocery store two separate occasions when I ran out of toilet paper and toothpaste.

• I only have clean hair because of the shampoo and conditioner a house guest left behind.

• I’ve even fed off friends’ restaurant scraps when joining them for dinner but not actually ordering anything. (In retrospect, this last one was NOT a premeditated act.)

 

But when I considered taking a knife to cut in half my bottle of body wash to more easily access the few remaining bits of soap scrub, I knew it was time.

 

As I struggled to reach the bottom of the plastic container, I too had reached a low.

 

I fueled up my car with $40 of gas to make the trip, because really, there’s not too much along the likes of a grocery store around downtown Phoenix.

 

While there’s Phoenix Public Market, it’s a bit expensive and somewhat like a specialty shop.* Same with CityScape’s Oakville Grocery. Other than various Circle K stores, (which came up when I searched “grocery” in my area on Google Maps), an overpriced campus convenient mart, and maybe a pharmacy here and there, the only option nearby appears to Safeway.

 

And while Safeway has great prices, the selection is limited.

 

So obviously I traveled to Target at Tempe Marketplace,  and spent more money on gas by attempting to save money and omit the expensive but nearby options.

 

But because there are plenty of eateries in the area, and a cute bartender at Turf that keeps me coming back, I only purchased hygienic necessities.

 

If I don’t have food, then I always have a reason to pop in and see if he’s working.

But while his cuteness does wonders for my self-esteem, it’s hitting my wallet hard as I try to balance my funds with the costly upkeep of a female’s appearance:

 

• After weeks, probably months now, of whining about it, I finally trimmed and dyed my hair. (The necessity of which was even further exemplified when my hairdresser called me “homely-looking” before my new ‘do.)  Thanks to a special running on Groupon at a salon more than 30 blocks away, this only cost me $90 including tip. I ruled this a success considering the majority of salons I called in downtown Phoenix advertised highlights at $60 to start, and the cost of even a simple trim began at $45.

• At Target, I bought my first tube of lip gloss in years (literally). Considering it an investment, the gloss was a cheaper option than the $7 lipstick I was contemplating while at the store. And thanks to a little encouragement from my grandmother, with whom I was on the phone while shopping – “Go ahead and get yourself some lipstick, honey, but remember you’re beautiful no matter what you wear,” – I compromised with a $1 Wet ‘n’ Wild tinted lip balm.

 

I usually mooch off Lindsay, whom I am normally never without, and use her makeup that she is conveniently never without. But with the Turf close by, an unplanned sighting is possible, and I must be prepared at a moment’s notice.

 

So really, his cuteness is pushing me to achieve financial independence by forcing me to overcome my cosmetic dependence on Lindsay.

 

Wow, what a great guy already.

 

*(Upon further consideration, I actually have never shopped for groceries at the Phoenix Public Market, although I have dined there. And it was expensive. But after reviewing the website, which says the market is there to “increase access to fresh, healthy food in an underserved area,” I feel compelled to give it a test run and intend to do so for the next post.)

 

UPDATE:

 

As I continue to justify my weekly budget failures via my skewed rationalizations, I decided to look into this a bit further and spent some time researching retail therapy.

 

While recently I learned that one’s brain may actually be neurologically wired to spend recklessly, impulse shopping can also be justified when one is down in the dumps.

 

As I had expressed in my last post, the celebration of a friend’s 30 years of life consisted of a weekend shindig. In an effort to “go big,” about a dozen or so of my closest friends and I chipped in to ring in his third decade at a tasteful yet decently priced cabin in Flagstaff.

 

This planned event cost a bit more than my usual weekly budget, but the point of a budget is not only to spend less but to have money for a rainy day. And a friend’s birthday is always an excuse to dip into the rainy-day fund.

 

So I omitted this expenditure from my seven-day total and managed to complete the week with success. My $12 brunch at First Watch, a $68 grocery store trip to prep for out-of-town birthday party guests and a $7.50 taco meal on Food Truck Friday  – OK, and one or two coffees – had me closing the week at just shy of $100.
Yes! The impossible becomes possible.

 

However – there’s always a “however,” isn’t there? – coming off the high of a warm reunion with friends, I was a bit bummed post-birthday celebration and that caused me to begin last week with a substantial financial hit.

 

You see, as my OCD-ways had led me to put myself in charge of planning and paying up front for the cabin, I lost almost a full week’s budget in the mess of gathering money and covering gas to make the two-hour trip. But because this was basically a gift to the birthday boy, I wrote it off as a friendship expense.

 

Yet as the beginning of last week saw visiting friends leaving to return home, I indulged in a few unnecessary purchases to upgrade my mood from blue, also known as retail therapy.

 

And according to a study I found á la The Huffington Post, I’m in good company.

 

The 2011 study by A. Selin Atalay and Margaret G. Meloy, published in Psychology and Marketing, stems from the theory of self-regulation.

 

From what I can gather, the idea is that human beings juggle many objectives at once, or multitask, if you will. Shifting at the flap of the proverbial butterfly’s wings, these goals and obstacles can be harmonious, but at other times can interfere with one another, and subsequently we are nearly forced to prioritize. Seemingly subconscious, this process requires effort, and depending on our mental state, our priorities change.

 

While there are other categories of self-regulation goals, the two at the center of the paper appear to be the stabilization of one’s mood and the regulation of our impulses.

 

In an effort to stabilize our mood, we might relinquish some control over our impulses and instead engage in some indulgent behavior. Thus, a poor mood can cause us to seek instant gratification as opposed to waiting for the benefit of a long-term goal.

 

“In other words, when energy is spent to mitigate negative emotions and distress, fewer resources are available to self-regulate and control one’s impulses,” the study reads.

 

(This also explains why many may reach for a beer during hard times.)

 

In conclusion, while the study says “the goal of restraint” may also serve as a mood-elevator, retail therapy is an effective pick-me-up with positive lingering results.

 

So thank you, Breadfruit for the $35 mood upgrade.

 

Much appreciation Starbucks, for the $4 coffee that brightened my outlook nearly twice a day last week.

 

 

A big shout out to Circle K for being such a close and convenient enabler of my tobacco habit.

 

And I can’t forget the Turf for its half-priced-appetizers-dollar-off-draft-beer happy hour.

 

Yet when I add it up, last week was not *too* much of an obstruction of budget. And it looks like one-week’s worth of retail therapy was enough; it’s only Thursday and I’ve still got more than half of my allowance in tact.

 

Although it would have been even more so in tact had I opted for the select wine at Roosevelt’s happy hour instead of the blend at $9.50 a glass.

 

Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.

So, no.

 

Just no. It didn’t happen. And it’s not going to happen this week either — a friend’s birthday bash taking place this weekend and the $12 I already spent on brunch yesterday has completely eaten up this week’s budget.

 

So, let’s all just take a deep breath, get over it and move on.

 

You see, last Thursday I ran out of coffee. And because the welfare of those around me depends on whether or not I have my caffeine in the morning, I swung by Starbucks and happily continued on to school venti-iced-non-fat-one-pump-sugar-free-caramel-coffee in hand. However, I felt a bit uneasy supporting a chain when two local coffee shops were just a stone’s throw away, but while Royal Coffee at Public Market may be delicious, it’s too expensive and I don’t have time for it to brew — I’m forever in a rush — and Fair Trade Cafe is probably actually cheaper and even better, but that day, well I was just lazy and Starbucks was quite literally on the way.

 

The following day — also known as Food Truck Friday — I had $2 and change in my pocket and I was bummed. While I did hesitate, my hangover (a mild case, but still present) and the aching hunger that went along with it battled the budget and came out on top. (I attempted to rationalize this with a theory that, by this point, I technically hadn’t spent nearly $98 because a small percentage of the budget had become change. So I estimated the loose coins weighing down my purse would add up to enough to cover my $7.50 lunch, which is a bargain is you ask me.)

 

My hangover, hunger and I were immediately (well actually, if you’ve ever been to Food Truck Fridays, you’d know there was a lengthy wait involved) satisfied by a carne asada burrito from Emerson Fry Bread. From there, it was just a downward spiral and I became a crazed spend-happy woman.

 

From that day and on through the weekend, every single meal, snack and beverage was purchased. I know it’s so bad, but it felt so good.

 

And contrary to popular belief, this really is beyond my control.

 

According to a September article on WBEZ 91.5 (that I actually found via an NPR article about a new study that shows women who drink coffee are at a lower risk of depression. #coffeeFTW) there are certain parts of your brain that control your economic decisions. According to the study mentioned, a subject’s decision to purchase an item was directly foretold by his or her brain activity. Some people are more inclined to spend despite a hefty price tag because of the way his or her brain operates.

 

Therefore, it is quite literally against my neurological make up to only spend $100 per week.

 

So, let’s slow it down a bit. Instead of completely starving, I’ll just put myself on a diet. Therefore, the imposed restrictions won’t cause me to overspend later. Because how can I really spend more an allotted amounted, if said allotted amount ceases to exist?

I did it again. I have disregarded the budget and overspent.

 

In my defense, it’s really not my fault:

 

1. My eye was irritated and required expensive drops.
2. My empty gas tank needed to be filled to make it to the pharmacy.
3. My naked fingernails urged me to purchase vibrant polish during the lengthy wait for my prescription.

 

Yes, one day a shambled budget can make.

 

But, OK, I’ll take the blame for one of the three, yet at a mere $3, the nail polish was not the culprit. And my freshly-coated tips do bring a smile to my face each time I catch a blur of the lilac lacquer. (Who said money can’t buy happiness?)

 

To add insult to injury, I was already coming off a loss from the week prior.

 

 

Despite how on-track I was as approached the finish line last Saturday, a friend relentlessly dangled dinner and drinks at Centurion in my face and I succumbed to the peer pressure. Although, because I am the only judge and jury in this trial, I ruled it legal following the discovery of a months-old $50 birthday check that surfaced in a cleaning frenzy.

 

(And bonus: my weekend wine-and-dine brought to my attention the restaurant’s new Wednesday night tapas menu that features fine fare for the frugal.)

 

However, I’ve realized it’s time for some tough love.

 

Sure, there was no way around the eye drops, I need to see.

 

But as I rarely use my car, I guess a trip to the pharmacy didn’t yield the $35 for gas that didn’t even top off my tank.

 

 

And the nail polish, well, yeah, I’ve got nothing for that one.

 

But the reason overspending is so easy to come by is because I frequently — actually, only ever — use my debit card. (On the upside: I have managed to restrict the use of my credit card. I only use it for automatic payments on bills, ensuring I do not pay past the due date and suffer a late fee. Ah, progress.)

 

So, I’ve decided from here on out, I will abide by the principles upon which the original challenge was founded: Withdraw only $100 from the ATM and make it last for the week.

 

Only this time, I’m kicking it up a notch.

 

I will actually hand over my debit card to my trusting but ever-so-critical-of-my-$100-a-week-budget friend. Without my plastic “safety net,” perhaps I’ll take the budget more seriously.

 

Or cry.

This is turning into an expensive month and it has nothing to do my with hair, which remains drab and uncut.

 

Up until last Friday, I had a grip on my spending. Including my friend’s goodbye dinner and a necessary, but actually unnecessary, $10 stop at the convenience store, I was only up to $55. Thursday may have included a vending-machine trip or two, so I’ll add $5 for good measure. I was in good financial standing and I could practically see my split-ends disappearing as a fresh trim was surely in my future. And then I found a $700 reason to violate my budget: replacing my car’s fuel pump. Unfortunately for me, cars run on gas and my car had a major leak caused by a cracked fuel pump. Luckily, The Auto Shop is just around the corner and the 10 minute walk home after dropping off my car was only a minor inconvenience. (They offered to drive me home, and even though I felt too lazy to walk back, it was too embarrassing to accept the four-block ride.) Thanks to my student and AAA discount, I saved more than $50, which was difficult to appreciate when I was forking over almost two month’s budget on something that I already owned.

 

It’s not like my car hasn’t needed a repair in the past, actually it has needed a few considering the way I drive, but normally instances like this begin with a call to daddy and end with his credit card being charged. While this time I made the call and my father had preferred that I put the charge on his card, I decided to take this one on my own. I had recently just replaced the battery and hadn’t requested reimbursement, so why stop now? Although I feared I would immediately regret this decision, I bucked up and took the charge.

 

Admittedly, I felt a bit nauseous when I signed the receipt.

 

And so I thought if the budget for the next seven weeks was ruined, why let this one go unscathed?

 

Seeking retribution (on myself, apparently), on Friday night, I treated myself to a late lunch and drowned my sorrows in two beers for $20. Instead of walking away with some dignity, I spent $17 hangover-food shopping grocery shopping the next day. While I rang in the week $3 under par, I am a far cry away from a new ‘do. Because two days later, I realized why paying for my car on my own was a big mistake.

 

It was the end of the month, so rent was due. It was approaching the due date for my hefty credit card bill that I have left untouched for some time now. And, oh yeah, my computer broke. While my computer is still under warranty, what would stop the fores of nature from further punishing my hair? I am certain something will occur and result in a triple-digit bill.

 

As my financial future remains uncertain, my only line of defense is to cut that useless spending on food and coffee. Actually, just this morning I picked up the usual venti iced coffee from Starbucks, which might be the first time in weeks, but clearly, I’m off to a good start. As a punishment, I am not allowing myself to purchase food again until every perishable food item in my home has been consumed.

 

This is going to be interesting.

…getting rid of split ends and dark roots becomes your main incentive to save money. Or are acceptable reasons to borderline starve.

 

First, I’m already taking a hit this week because last week I promised a friend I’d buy her bookshelf for $20 when she moved out of state. That time is fast approaching, and to that financial hit I will also add dinner for her last night here. So I’ve begun the week with an almost 50 percent budget cut before it actually even started.

 

And despite the fact that I’ve tried to fight my thirst and fatigue when it strikes, I couldn’t help but indulge in the sweet reward of a few caffeinated beverages yesterday morning. And OK, maybe also the day before. Yet that only adds $8.50 to the expected $50 that I am committed to spend this week. Perhaps if I hold strong at dinner, meaning no classy glass of vino, I might cut it down by even $10 because what’s really important is my hair.

 

My account is still recovering from the $200 – at which I barely shrugged – I spent the last time I got my hair done. This time, I’ll be going about it in a much more financially attentive manner, but either way, I’m going about it. I’m even giving up grocery shopping this week, willing to survive the next seven days on a few bags of frozen veggies, brown rice and some unknown canned products, which I might have to stretch to last two weeks after I called a few Tempe salons for estimates.

 

 

Before I went on a mad Internet search for local salons offering student discounts, I obviously checked Facebook and came across a post by my cousin that I wished I hadn’t seen:

Now I just kind of feel like an ass.

“If you gave me $100 for the week, I’d hand you back $50 at the end of it.”

 

That’s what I heard upon informing my friend I was resurrecting my blog about my weekly budget. His initial surprise and harsh criticism suggested he might not have been a dedicated reader during the blog’s first run.

 

However, he raised a good point. One hundred dollars is not that difficult to stretch for a week. Per the budget guidelines, rent and utilities are not included, and I had already tamed some of my greatest spending weaknesses: I replaced Starbucks’ iced coffees with those made at home, in an effort to eat healthier I focused on preparing my own meals, and with the full schedule I was taking on this semester I was only going out one night a week.

 

So in the spirit of a true challenge I cut the budget in half, vowing to limit myself to $50 per week.

 

I began my fiscal week on Sunday and by Wednesday night, I had lost by $2 to a six-pack of Michelob Ultra and a pack of Marlboro Lights at the nearest Circle K. As a side-effect of my busy semester, my two post-long day vices reared their ugly heads. (However, I guess that would have to mean that they actually ever went away.)

 

In my defense, I started the week with the best intentions.

 

For Sunday brunch (come on, what’s a Sunday without brunch?) I convinced my friends — eventually — to eat at one of the cheaper, closer brunch locations I knew of: Brick.

 

Yet after the restaurant ran out of eggs (yes, seriously) the brunch menu was null and void, and the costly lunch menu was forced upon us. The dedicated frugal that I am, or perhaps because I’m a bit stubborn and refused to eat anything non-brunchesque, I stuck with coffee and toast. (Which turned out to be the best toast I’ve ever had. It was crisp yet soft with a delightful hint of lemon zest.)

 

Regardless of my self-control, I still racked up a $12 bill including tax and tip.

Oh, I forgot to mention I had also ordered a $5 bloody mary.

 

Still, I felt I was in good standing as I entered day two and prepared for what I thought would be the biggest expense of the week: grocery shopping.

 

Making it a quick trip, I bypassed most of the name-brand staples that usually stock my fridge and shopped only for generic labels, mainly price-cut items. (Although, I will admit I omitted the marked-down deli meats. Something about clearance roast beef just didn’t seem right.)

 

The total only came to $23 and change thanks to my Safeway membership card, and I thought I was in the clear for the rest of the week.

 

But when Wednesday hit and my lengthy day prompted a hankering for a night cap, I apparently threw the budget to the wayside and I began down the path of a spending frenzy that would plague the remainder of the week.

 

A $1.50 can of diet soda here and there.

 

An ill-advised additional purchase of cigarettes.

 

Liquid party favors for a friend’s going away shindig.

 

I was up to $94.50 on the final day, just a few dollars shy of my allowance since I returned to the original $100 per week premise after my mid-week mishap.

 

And because my friends — who will remain nameless — couldn’t wait until Sunday, I was taunted with an invitation to Saturday morning brunch at the land of the $12 omelet, Local Breeze.

 

So, I obviously set down my mug of freshly homemade coffee and texted my friends to order me a cup as I walked over to meet them.

 

Just the $2 caffeine kick with tax and tip would’ve allowed me to complete the first week with the budget unscathed.

 

Faced with an opportunity to take on the budget and come out #winning, I took the low road knowingly into the red, and ordered the toast with an overpriced side of chicken sausage. (But I did get a second helping of sausage because they brought the wrong kind out the first time, so kind of #winning.)

 

I clocked out this week nearly $6 over my allowance.

 

But I’ve never really been that great at listening to authority, as my parent’s would say.

 

And now apparently that’s true even if its myself.

 

At least this time I said no to the blood mary.

 

Looks like I’ll be a big kid in no time.