"You can do better."

"You need to update your blog," Ms. K said over dinner in Ditmas Park a couple days ago.

"But I did today!"

She whipped out her iPhone and connected to Post No Bills, the image of which was fractured by the many tiny slivers in her screen (nb: iPhones crack when you drop them). After a quick skim of the page she declared that I could to do better.

"But it was my birthday," I sputtered, "and then it was Thanksgiving! There wasn't any time to update my blog with all the turkey eating."

She looked incredulous.

Perhaps the lady doth protest too much after all. I really could have done better but I have been unmotivated and caught in a post-holiday depression. The recent theme of decadence has given way to austerity as I take a look at my sad finances and figure out how I am going to pay my bills. I already canceled the cable and figured out how to make a week's worth of meals consist of Thanksgiving leftovers. Then I realized that I couldn't do without my cell phone or my internet, so that stays. I contacted some of my freelance clients, but stuff like that takes time to develop much less get paid. I even considered bartending, but I only have experience drinking the drinks, not pouring them for money.

So here are some scenarios where all my financial problems are solved:

* I am contacted by a heretofore unknown rich relative who wants to fund my moderately extravagant lifestyle.

* I am hired by numerous people who recognize my brilliance and want to financially compensate me for it, whether it be design, feng shui or astrology consulting, writing, or programming.

* I whore out my Gold Star for a lucrative sum. I could take applications from rich Saudi men.

* I sell a kidney.

* I win the lottery.

Incidentally my mom wrote me to ask what I wanted for Christmas. While I can't let her know that I am facing destitution and a bleak future that would have given Charles Dickens pause, I did ask for champagne glasses, clothes, and a rug for my bedroom. What I really need is, in addition to cash, a box to store my sex toys in. But that's another thing I can't share with mom.