origami dollar

Day One Hundred and Twenty

-A woman in her forties thanked me for carding her, saying that I gave her a reason to smile and made her entire week. My reasoning for this was that our computers have changed and we now must have a physical ID to progress with the purchase, but I am happy to take credit for this accidental good deed.

-A British man came through my lane and, upon leaving, said, “Buh-bye.” I have now determined this to be the greatest accent to say this phrase in, and the greatest phrase to say in general.

-My register crashed in the midst of paying for a $250+ transaction consisting of dozens of small-ticket items. I went to the adjacent register to ring it up again, yet this register shut down on me as well. This misadventure came in the middle of hours of guests berating and shouting at me for a number of things well beyond my control. If either God or Karma exists, I am looking forward to a good payout in return for surviving this day.

-As a reward for stopping a newborn from committing shoplifting, I was granted a free Starbucks drink. Today being payday be damned, this is the most gratifying part of my week and I am all for this brand of instant gratification for shutting down infant heists.

-A woman purchased a picture frame with a stock photo of a beagle pup leaning out of a car window with just the tiniest bit of tongue hanging out. This is undoubtedly the worst possible selection for use in any picture frame being sold. The purpose of the stock photo is for it to be replaced, but now not a soul in their right mind ever will do so.

-An abandoned origami dollar bill has been left in my till, identical to one a mysterious, benevolent guest left me weeks ago. I have just missed my friend. I am devastated.

-A mother asked her child if they wanted a sticker. After a long and thoughtful pause, they ultimately landed on a no. I am unsure of what factors this toddler was weighing, but I urge them to reconsider.

-A man in his late thirties slid into my lane at turbo speed, skittering to a halt on the medical scooter he and his injured leg were mounted on. Such a move would have been made thricely glamorous were there the sound of screeching brakes to accompany it; luckily, this man came with his own effects, supplying exactly this for me. He purchased only a bicycle bell for his new primary method of transportation and took it without a bag, eager to begin a life wherein everyone is entirely aware of his presence anytime he is in the vicinity. His leg may be broken, but his spirit never will be.


How to turn your boring money gift into something special x 💸


- Dollar bill

- Creative hands


Step 1. Crease the bill horizontally down the middle and fold both the top and bottom sides inward

Step 2. Take the upper side and fold a little piece behind

Step 3. Fold the two corners over, just like the picture is showing. Later, these corners are used to keep the shirt in place

Step 4. Take the opposite side of where we were working on earlier and bring it over

Step 5. Flip again and make sure it goes underneath the collar, this must be the case otherwise you can’t complete the shirt

Step 6. Unfold the last 2 steps

Step 7. Here’s where it gets a little trickier. Pay close attention. You are now back to the long section, use the first fold line to fold the sleeves. Fold out and crease back so that it winds up looking like you popped a sleeve out of the side

Step 8. Now fold back up like you did in step 4 and 5

Step 9. Put the shirt underneath the collar

There you have it, the ultimate lazy gift!

Universal Types of Strip Club Customers:

These customers are somehow at every club.  Add your own if he’s not here.  Strippers/sex workers only, obviously. FSSWers feel free to add, too! 

The Quirky Tipper (not to be confused with the Dollar Bill Artist):
Tips anything but actual money.  Lotto tickets, candy bars, and if you’re lucky..maybe a receipt with his number on it!

The Dollar Bill Artist:
Spends all his time making intricate origami shapes out of dollar bills.  Acts as though it is a grand gesture of love, and is disappointed when you react to it as….a folded-up single dollar bill.

The Artist:
He may be a musician, a painter, an author, etc.  But he makes sure you know it.  He may grace you with a portrait of your vulva, or ask you to check out his soundcloud.  If you’re lucky, you’ll get a copy of his mixtape.  He thinks it is the highest honor to be in a photo shoot of his. He probably brings a sketch book or notebook or pencil/pen to the club.  He might write you poetry, draw a terrible portrait of you, or dedicate a song to you.

The Talks-To-Himself:
This guy has conversations with himself.  He’s weird.  He sits at the bar or at the stage and mumbles under his breath, drinking a single beer or bottle of water for hours.  

Dirty Santa:
Self-explanatory.  He straight up looks like Santa.  Very hard to dance for, as his belly is….well…..Santa-like.  He’s more pervy than your average big-bellied and bearded customer.  Which is weird, because he looks like Santa.

The Stripper Connoisseur:
He’s like the food critic of the stripper world.  Has been to every strip club ever.  Has met every stripper ever.  Has constructive criticism for you, the manager, the DJ, the owner…. Oh he may have even owned his own club in Las Vegas 10 years ago….Comments on outfits, shaving jobs, makeup and nails, song choice, lighting choice, drink prices, overall dancer “quality”, and your weight.  Usually very very very racist.

The Friend of the Staff (not to be confused with the Friend of the Owner):
Thinks every bartender, door man, DJ, and waitress is his best friend.  May have secret high-fives and everything.  Knows everyone by name and makes sure you hear it.  Tips minimally, because, you know, he’s your friend not a customer!

The Friend of the Owner:
Knows the owner.  Obviously.  You don’t know the owner.  He does.  He needs free drinks, high mileage, a specific song played, extra attention because HE KNOWS THE OWNER he doesn’t have to pay for anything because HE KNOWS THE OWNER. May threaten you subtly by saying he knows the owner in a more menacing voice.

The “Gangster”: (not to be confused with the Gangster):
Answers fake phone calls and talks loudly about “WHeres his money??”.  Usually over 35.  Has been to prison (maybe?).  Gets $100 in one dollar bills and lays them out conspicuously.  OR a young kid or group of young kids who sold pot once and now say they work in “trade” or “exporting” and wink at you.  This type of “Gangster” gets bottle service and expects to be worshiped like their favorite rap idol.   

The Gangster:
Dope-boy type.  Wears terrible clothes his mama would kill him for wearing in public, but his Nikes are spotless.  Will tell you openly that he is a drug dealer.  Always smells like pot and/or is always high.  Buys dances for all his friends and tips generously. 

The Promoter: 
Comes in to promote a bar, a party, a nightclub, a music video, a concert, a venue, a store, etc.  Wants YOU to make money for HIM.  Does not even consider where he is.  

The Definitely Not A Cop:
Uses outdated drug lingo to ask where he can “score” some drugs.  Typical flat-top or high-and-tight hair cut.  Asks if you dance privately at his house.  He might just be a lonely military dad who married for the benefits, but he definitely looks and acts like a cop.  He’s also very offended when you mention he looks and acts and sounds like a cop.

The Should Have Gone To Backpage:
Looking for a fsswer but doesn’t want to pay their rates.  Doesn’t even bother getting dances, just asks what you offer.  Says he has a hotel nearby.  Tells you how many other girls regularly do this for him.  

The Amateur Gynecologist:
Sits very close to the stage and stares directly into your vagina as though it is the key to viewing his future and revealing the secrets of the next life.  Upset if you don’t full-out Hustler “spread” for a dollar.  Sometimes, he even has nice comments about your vagina!

The Faithful Boyfriend/Husband/Fiancee:
Can’t get a dance because he’s so faithful.  He’s at a strip club, but it’s OK because he doesn’t get dances.

I made another dollar origami! I did not make another elephant because it’s not a lucky dollar, I EARNED THIS DOLLAR BY THE SWEAT OF MY BROW when I accidentally busked in the subway today.

I took my ukulele out with me today because I wanted to get a case for it, and I didn’t end up with a case, but I did discover that a ukulele, even if it’s just the fretboard and knobs sticking out of your pack, is an invitation to conversation with ALL KINDS OF PEOPLE. 

So I went fruitlessly shopping for a case and talked to some people, then I got lunch and talked to some people, then I went to the movies (I was seeing The Untouchables at the Arclight; 100% worth the $14 to see it on the big screen) and then I got on the train to come home.

I swung my bag around to rest it on my lap, and the girl sitting across from me, who was probably around ten? got these BIG HUGE EYES and elbowed her (probably) brother next to her, who was about six, and he said, IS THAT A UKULELE?

And I said, “Sure, want to see?” and took it out and added, “It’s new so I can’t play much yet.” Undeterred, this kid, and also his sister, and also their two probably siblings started clamoring for a song and their probably mother, definitely the person who had been putting up with them all day, looked REALLY TIRED so I said, sure, okay, I can play ONE SONG.

Which is true. There is one song I can play competently in front of other humans, more or less, and it is “Rolling Home” by John Tams, because it only has three chords. So I played Rolling Home, just the first two verses, and then after the second chorus I busted out my SECRET WEAPON: I know how to play the chorus to Never Gonna Give You Up. For reasons which should be obvious. 

Rickrolling is such a universal meme at this point that as soon as I started in on the chorus the kids started CACKLING which is good because I don’t really know how to end it and this way they didn’t notice. 

After the rickroll I went to put my ukulele away, because I really can’t play anything else without the tabs at least in front of me, and as I opened my bag the truly tolerant old dude next to me stuffed a dollar into it. And I said, oh no, I’m not busking, the kids just wanted a song, and he was all, but you played some nice music, take a dollar, LEARN YOU SOME CHICAGO BLUES OK. 

So I earned a dollar illegally busking and also now I have to learn me some Chicago Blues on the ukulele. My patron commands it. 

My life. *hapless handwave* 


Origami Dollar Cuboid https://youtu.be/qgPeRH-O9ic

anonymous asked:

What do you put in your journals!

anything and everything!! I’ll give you a big ol’ list of stuff thats cropped up in my past 6 journals. Artist inspiration, drawing, painting, pen doodles, pen testing, paper cranes, tickets, leaflets picked up, clothing labels, photographs printed out, quotes, letter stamps, letraset, typewritten things, tape, to do lists, feelings/thoughts, hole punched pages, embroidery, post it notes, photocopies of work, origami dollar shirts, watercolour, magazine cuttings, newspaper cuttings, interior inspiration, wallpaper samples, perfume samples (they make your journals smell nice), achievements, observations, ink stamp fingerprints, photo film negatives, tester sheets from paintings, old photocopied maps, colour testing, artwork planning, paper cutting, stenciled letters etc etc!!