Like A Drunken Sailor

9 Comments

At the moment cashola has been slipping through my fingers. The bank balance resembles a holey bucket or perhaps Shane Warne after that diuretic his Mum gave him. In any case my current spending habits could be described in the vernacular as being “like a drunken sailor”.  You may be surprised to learn that I have little direct experience of intoxicated seafaring folk. I am all too familiar with drunken engineers. Unlike their marine counterparts they can be extraordinarily tight arsed with their imbibing habits. They’ll find a keg party or someone else’s stash of home brew and set up camp. I guess they pride themselves on finding an optimal solution to the problem of sobriety. Drunken bankers on the other hand, flash diamond encrusted credit cards at fancy pants bars (usually owned by Justin Hemmes) in the hope of getting some play. If they followed their own motto of “buying cheap”, they’d be cruising the RSL clubs instead of The Ivy. Its all about perceptions in that game.

My bank balance.

My bank balance.

I have viewed from a distance, visiting US navel crews descend upon Sydney’s Kings Cross. I’ve listened to my Aussie male friends (ironically drunken engineers)  moan about what they’d give to be African American on such occasions. My key observation was that drunken sailors spend their pay on getting themselves and their companions even more drunken.

My spending habits are ever so slightly different. Money flows out of my wallet in same seemingly unnoticeable drips rather than teaming cascades.  Sadly when you add up all the drips you’re shocked to realize you’ve blown a tank load. I reason that one more coffee can’t hurt and that I deserve the “pick me up”. Goodbye $4 – this is Sydney’s east after all. Don’t get me started on all the discount chain stores. If I had every dollar I’ve spent in Target, Best & Less and The Big W over the past five and a half years back, I’d easily have enough to keep myself happily caffeinated for life.

It's a need, not a want!

It’s a need, not a want!

Then there’s all the junk stores – Hot Dollar, Red Dollar, Red Hot Dollar etc etc. Its too tempting to drop a lazy $20 on a feather boa, glittery plastic bowler hat and mardi gras face mask to stash in the girls dress up box (No not for Dadabulous’ benefit, if that is what you smutty people where thinking). It only becomes a problem when you find yourself doing it once a week.  Cheap junk can soon accumulate into an expensive mountain of trash.

I’m one of those annoying Mums who likes to “enrich”  their kids with a variety of  experiences. ( This is code for “if we don’t get out and about, I’ll go gawd darn stir crazy”) Whilst this is all very enlightened, many of the experiences cost money. The plastic gets a strenuous work out with show tickets, fun park rides, school holiday programs and museums. On top of that there’s visits to indoor play centres and trips to the money sink hole previous known as Fox Studios (now The Entertainment Quarter.) My plastic should have serious abs by now.

Come to think of it I’ve never seen a sailor, drunken or otherwise frequenting The Entertainment Quarter. I’ve never noticed those distinctive bell bottom white pants cruising the aisles of K-mart. The only sailors I’ve encountered in the junk stores are of the lisping “Hellooo Sailor” variety. On the other hand if I was let loose in Darlinghurst, I could make a serious dent in the bank balance in record time. I’d suggest that the saying “spending like a drunken sailor” is outdated, even when used to describe Wayne Swan. It should be replaced in common speech with “spending like a desperate housewife”. That would be right on the money.

I might have seen this dude in Hot Dollar.

I might have seen this dude in Hot Dollar.

 

But I've never crossed paths with these dudes in Target.

But I’ve never crossed paths with these dudes in Target.

Got any budgeting tips for me?

Love

Mumabulous

photo credit: rwentechaney via photopin cc

photo credit: Linh H. Nguyen via photopin cc

photo credit: Hen3k Hen3k via photopin cc

photo credit: CharlesFred via photopin cc

9 thoughts on “Like A Drunken Sailor

  1. Nope. I just went Christmas shopping for the kids and suffice to say even if Hubby and I fail to assemble the swing set which is languishing in its box underneath our house, the kids will never notice. I have spent the last three days threatening my daughter with being put on the naughty list while simultaneously wondering what in God’s name I would do with all the ‘extra’ Xmas presents now hidden in my wardrobe…

    I don’t have any answers. But I wholeheartedly concur that cutting back on coffees is not an option…

  2. We were living on not much more than parenting payment for nearly two years, and it was HARD. I have expensive tastes. Our luxuries at best were occasional coffees out and a dress from the op shop. Second hand shopping is my best budgeting tip, but it’s a bit like eating low-sugar chocolate. It’s still chocolate! I am slightly shocked how much I spend these days on bits and bobs.

  3. Did you get my comment? I am not sure what happened to it. x

  4. I have no tips. I suffer the same disease. I’ve been complaining lately that we can’t afford a big holiday, but if I’d skipped a few of those $5 sticker books, $3 novelty t-shirts and $4 (or a lot more) coffees we’d be half way there. You really do have to do something to fill the hours sometimes, though, and keep the little ones’ imaginations charged. Good luck plugging the bucket!

  5. Zip tips from here, I’m afraid. I spent about $50 on stupid wigs (including a Bob Marley dreadlocks one) at Hot Dollar the other week. Terrible. Shocking…

  6. God, I can so relate (and offer no helpful advice). At this time of year I often “joke” my Amex should be sporting racing stripes.

    And on your earlier post: I will take all the WHAM! you throw at me, but the very next time I hear about that sodding Little Drummer Boy someone is going DOWN.

    • This post sounds like I’m dissing WHAM. Not true. They were my first pop loves at age 13 but I dropped them like a brick when I discovered Duran Duran. Your right about the Little Drummer Boy. What a stupid song. If some pre-teen idiot started bashing a drum around my new born he’d be booted out of the manger toot sweet.

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