ANYONE CAUGHT STEALING TOILET PAPER, COFFEE SUPPLIES, AND GARBAGE BAGS WILL BE FIRED ON THE SPOT.

Damn. I knew the salaries were low here, but that should tell management something.

You know, this journal has been all about me confessing things.

I stole toilet paper for a while. (Not from here! Not from here, I swear! Don't fire me!)

I ripped off TP from the Taco Bell in my college town. Yup, I was that poor, that I would plunk down 69 cents for some plain nachos, and then leave the Taco Bell with a big ol' economy roll of sandpaper-esque toilet paper stuffed under my shirt. Ah, those were the days.

When my dad was touring with a music group the year before he left for college, he told me that while he was in Mexico, toilet paper was a rare, valuable commodity. So much that when he'd get a letter from his parents, he made sure to save the envelope for... future use.

I can remember one afternoon, me laughing hysterically, tears streaming down my cheeks, while Dad said things like,

"Gee, I never thought about that! I'd get a letter from Grandma and Grandpa, and I would actually, deliberately, set aside the envelope to wipe my ass with later. 'Dear Mom and Dad, Sure am glad I FINALLY got your letter!'"

(I'll bet he's really pleased that this fine memory is posted on the Internet.)

My family is pretty much middle-class. But given my independent nature, I've been poor quite a few times in my life. Fortunately, there was always toilet paper for me to swipe (no pun intended), so I didn't have to risk paper cuts, like Pop did.

But I remember my senior year, living with my friend Shannon. She and I had both let our spending get a little out of control. I was in a touch of trouble, financially. Eventually, we couldn't really afford to buy any more groceries. As mentioned, hygiene products were macked from fast food joints, and we attended as many free-food events as possible, but eventually, we were having this conversation:

Me: "Well, I have a potato and a half in the fridge. That should provide 2 meals."

Shan: "Don't forget that pasta in there. We don't really have anything to put on it, but we could use... water, or soup, or... something."

Like it's the freakin' long, hard winter and we're hanging out in The Little House on the Prairie. I actually lost weight.

Then there was the day I came home from class, and Shannon, a psychology major, was sitting on the couch, laughing out loud.

Me: "What?"

Shan: "We're learning about eating disorders this quarter."

Me: "Yeah?"

Shan: "Well, Jamie, I don't know how to break this to you, but we're anorexic."

Me: "Bullshit! How do you figure?"

Shan: "Man, we've got all the symptoms. We talk about food all the time. We dream about it. We flip through cookbooks lustfully. BUT WE DON'T EAT."

Me: "So, does that entitle us to some free grub?"

Fortunately, my mom came for a visit shortly after we'd reached this all-time low and stocked us up with some yummies. God bless her.

Gotta run. I need to go steal some coffee filters... er, I mean, get back to work now.