Sometimes I forget to take my lunch to work; or, more frequently, I am too lazy the previous evening to prepare a dish. And sometimes those leftovers don’t fit in my haute-couture Polar Jacket lunch bag. It’s vintage 2005 and that season’s collection was all about space conservation.

So I’m forced with a decision. Go hungry and have fatty rage or pay too much for too little food. I used to go with the former until I had to go to the dentist because I had chewed on the edge of my desk in a blind rage. If the ADA really cared about my teeth they would’ve educated me on the dangers that laminated particle board poses to my teeth. Which are legion.

Eating lunch out is expensive and, more importantly, isn’t usually worth the cash. For the price of a decent cocktail I can get some bland bread and warmed-over meat full of enough salt to send the Morton’s girl to the cardiologist or a gob of white rice with a molecule of curry paste on top, and that’s only if the cook got a little enthusiastic. As a result, I’ve unlocked my inner scavenger, and by inner scavenger I mean my minor field of study in college. You could say that I’m doing graduate work in the field, and my thesis project is in progress, and that sauce that I spilled on my shirt is like a signature of approval from my advisor on my progress report.

Here are several lessons that I’ve distilled.

1. Never fall for the siren call of McKingBell. There are plenty of other pieces of styrofoam with superior sauces available in a garbage can near you, and it’s hard to scavenge after you’ve shit yourself cross-eyed. A classic rookie mistake.
2. Buy breakfast food. It’s cheaper. Why pay five dollars for a sandwich with everything on it when you can get a bagel and cream cheese with everything on it for two dollars? You’ll spend a few extra seconds confirming that yes, you said you wanted hot peppers on a cream cheese bagel, but the resulting nutrients ought not to be ignored.
3. Call in imaginary favors. Remember that time that you bought your friend a few drinks? Neither does he, but then again, he was drunk.
4. Make some friends with prospective college students. Orientations and tours always have goodies and most of the audience haven’t started their coursework in scavenging yet. Take advantage of your superior knowledge and skills. Remember, knowledge is not just power, but also free carrot muffins and burnt coffee.
5. My wife once said that I’d eat an envelope if it was full of mustard. She was wrong. I’d eat an envelope if it was full of mustard AND lettuce AND pickles, at the very least. And if you work in an office, envelopes are free and you don’t even have to consider the cost of postage! Steal condiments off of someone else’s sandwich. Suckers.

This guide has not been meant to be definitive in any way, but instead to serve as a prompt or springboard for your own explorations in being a cheap bastard. And remember, if you do cave and buy a sandwich, please pay me no heed when I’m plundering it for ingredients to stuff into my envelope.

Crocheting is fun.  After an abortive attempt at knitting two years ago around Christmas, I picked up my yarn and needles again on Tuesday.

I promptly set them back down.

My wife explained to me that people are either knitters or crocheters.  At her encouragement, I bought a crochet hook and some red yarn (fond childhood memories) today and found a bounty of  information, including videos for figuring out a double summat or the other.

Bottom line is that it makes way more sense to me than knitting does, and I’ve already made one cock-n-balls related item and a few things that people would actually want.

First, the useful items: a tiny little blanket for a tiny little rabbit and a few practice chains (the wife already has a bracelet and a necklace).

A few crocheted items

And then the cock and balls.  Lookit that fancy tassel.  It’s ready to hit the town!

It's a crocheted dick, oh yes it is.

From this angle it looks like a snake riding a bicycle, which is also acceptable.

Little known fact: snakes love bikes. Snake bike!!