I grew up in a really weird house. Well, weirdly located, anyway. We lived on a commercial property, behind a lawnmower repair shop and a chiropractor's office. The chiropractor owned all the land we were on, as well as the creepy shed and unoccupied other house right next to ours.
Oh, did I mention this house was also located next to a liquor store and bar?
How in the world did I ever turn out so wholesome? The reason we lived there is because the rent my parents paid? One hundred dollars a month! Even in the seventies and early eighties, that's a hell of a bargain for a house, no matter how small.
I didn't care about any of that, except for the liquor store.
You see, like all liquor stores, it had it's fair share of tempting edibles, from Funyuns, which I used to be addicted to, to licorice whips that sold five for a quarter.
Being as I was young and had no money, I would simply sneak into my parents' room when they were busy and look in the abalone half shell that held all their loose change.
I would be as judicious about it as an eight year old can be, and try not to take too much or be too obvious about it. Then I would saunter over by myself to the liquor store, where they treated me like royalty since I spent money there like a drunken duchess.
And amazingly, I was a very skinny kid despite all of my ill-gotten treats. Did I mention my mom was a health nut and made me eat things like Cream of Wheat for breakfast and eggplant for dinner?
So of course I have the perfect song for today. It was basically my motto.