Dumbest Things I Spend My Money On

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I recently subscribed to one of those money management apps, the kind that breaks down exactly where your cash is going, and let me tell you, it’s the best and worst decision I’ve ever made in my life. On one hand, I needed the accountability. On the other hand, nothing makes you feel like a fucking idiot quite like seeing a pie chart telling you that 68% of your monthly income is going toward grilled chicken salads and booze.

You want to talk about having no brain cells? Buddy, I should honestly get evaluated for where I land on the spectrum. I downloaded this thing thinking it would help ease my anxiety, help me feel more in control. Instead, it’s like staring my financial demons straight in the eyes, and they’re staring right back, flipping me off telling me to go fuck myself with every Uber Eats receipt.

Let’s start with the food. The amount I spend on delivery is criminal. These $20 orders don’t seem like much in the moment but they stack up quick. I’m buying meals like I’m Dave Portnoy after he sold Barstool for half a billion. And it’s not like I’m living lavish either, I’m talking $18 salads from some hole in the wall that taste like disappointment and regret. When you add it all up, I’m spending more on food than I am on my car note and insurance combined. That should be a felony.

Then there’s the Sunday couch days. Ah yes, the beautiful tradition of doing nothing but spending everything. Between delivery, streaming subscriptions, and “comfort” purchases, I’m not spending my money, I’m eating it. 

And don’t even get me started on Instagram ads and Amazon. Those apps are tracking me like the USA tracks a nuclear bomb site in Iraq. They know where I live, what I like, exactly where to ship, and my credit card number on file. 

And my biggest expense no surprise here is alcohol. Or as the app likes to politely call it: “Entertainment.” When I saw that number, my jaw hit the floor. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for having fun and making memories with my people, but not at the cost of my entire checking account. It might be time for Smokes to tone it down just a little. Not a full detox, let’s be real, but maybe cut out the soft Thursdays and just go full send on Saturdays.

In an effort to get my life together, I bought Rich Dad Poor Dad. Step one: admit financial illiteracy. Step two: try not to spend $40 at Starbucks while reading it. Pray for me.