You ever wake up dehydrated like your bank account,
devilishly aligned because you’ve already plotted three side hustles before brushing your teeth?
You decide to treat yourself. Nothing crazy.
Just a little “I deserve this” moment.
So you pull up to one of those fast food spots that advertises dollar coffee.
Dollar. Coffee.
And like their ice cream machine…
the coffee machine is “temporarily unavailable.”
Temporarily.
At 9:12 AM.
It’s when you walk into the Dollar Store —
capital D, capital S —
the sanctuary of “I can make this stretch.”
You’re in there pre-payday, calculating like a financial wizard.
Toothpaste. Snacks. Maybe a candle to romanticize the struggle.
Everything in your head is still a dollar.
You’re moving through the aisles confident. Empowered.
Living large on principle.
Then you get to the register.
$1.25.
No town hall meeting.
No press conference.
No emotional preparation.
Now you standing in line, Tired. Holding your little basket, cause you’re sure as hell didn’t need a cart internally screaming “FUUUU—” like Elaine on the subway ride from hell. “The Subway Episode” Seinfeld 1992
That’s Fuckonomy
🎙️ New words drop daily @ 6AM.
💬 Like. Share. Repost. And drop a comment—what’s your fuckonomy looking like today?
And if you would be a beautiful soul and whatever platform you listen on if you could follow on that platform and also rate your Fuckcabulary Empress I would be so appreciative.
Thank you!
©️Hawsé Sumi
If the dollar store betrayed you but the artwork didn’t — take it home.
Prints available. Posters too.
Reasonably priced. No surprise quarter at checkout.
Own the Art
Digital
canvas
And other materials
