jet-setting, poverty style

In continuation of the justified ridiculousness that has become my life, I decided--and very skillfully, if I do say so myself, persuaded my mother--that since my sister is in Chile for a year and has three months off school and no travel buddy, and since I have no commitments right now, and since I have a flight back to New York City in a week (return leg of my trip home) that I wasn't going to use, and since flights to South America from New York City are really cheap (relatively speaking) right now, and since my sister offered to pay half, and since playing Bob Vila around here will earn me my half, and since I have a little cash somehow by the grace of God, and since I need to go back to the East Cost to find a real job anyway, that it makes all the sense in the world for me to go to Santiago right now. Nevermind the fact that my credit card debt is astronomical and I have no source of income or official place of residence and if I fuck up again my dad will probably disown me. So anyway, on Wednesday I fly to New York where I will tackle Perplexa and the very busy Drone as soon as I hunt them down, and then on Thursday it's off to Santiago for two weeks, with some time in the cheap and meaty Buenos Aires. This will be by far my most exotic trip ever (after the high school marching band trip to the oh-so-adventurous Atlantis Resort ["As seen on TV!"] in the Bahamas,) and I am very excited. Let's just hope I can gain some semblance of responsibility when I return and realize once and for all that I am not, in fact, wealthy enough to buy $300 sweaters and $70 bikini waxes. Or really, for that matter, $60 sweaters and $20 bikini waxes. *Sigh* Fucking razorburn.