We Are Never Meeting in Real Life.

by Samantha Irby

I have no idea how people who actually have money talk to their children about it. But I sure as shit can tell you how poor people do. • “No you cannot have that.” • “The lights will come back on Tuesday when I get my check. Until then stop letting the cold air out of the freezer. I don’t want that ground beef to thaw out.” • “Wash those underwear out in the sink and hang them up so you can wear them tomorrow.” • “Put back that box of [insert name of overpriced boxed breakfast cereal] and get a bag of those [fruit circles/oaty o’s/wheaty flakes] from the bottom shelf. Don’t you look at me like that, it’s the same fucking thing.” • “Do you really need every Sweet Valley High book? Go back and read the ones you already goddamn have.” • *Removes package of Capri Sun pouches that the juice box fairy anonymously slipped into the grocery cart and replaces them with dusty bottom-shelf boxes of orange drink while glaring in my general direction* “Don’t try me, Samantha Irby.” • “Quit playing on my phone, you’re gonna run up my bill.” • “Who told you that you could order all these Columbia House tapes?!” • “Steer the car while I push it down the street to the gas station.” • “DID YOU HEAR ME? PUT THAT SHIT BACK, I SAID YOU CAN’T HAVE IT.”