My original aim in creating this blog was to express the humorous, and often tragically depressing, life of a yuppie. For those who are not familiar with this clearly awesome word, a yuppie is defined by the brilliant minds at urbandictionary.com as:
“(y)oung (U)rban (P)rofessional, or Yup. Turned into yuppie in the 1980's. A term used to describe someone who is young, possibly just out of college, and who has a high-paying job and an affluent lifestyle. Can now be used to describe any rich person who is not modest about their financial status.”
I think this definition captures the term well but what’s a little disturbing is the example they use:
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| Christian Bale in American Psycho |
Well obviously all us yuppies like to be compared to Christian Bale *sarcastic tone.* Who doesn’t love American Psycho? The part where he goes ape shit crazy on the homeless guy, and is all stabby stabby, is essentially what we in yuppiedom call “stress release” and is good for what ails ya!
If you are ever in town and would like to catch a glimpse of Torontonian yuppies, it's best to get a spot near King and Bay. They come out in herds at lunch time and you can spot them grazing near a trendy bistro where a small box of salad costs $17, not including the Perrier.
But it’s not all about work for these majestic creatures. No sir, yuppies know how to party…HARD. Though trained at the best schools in the country, yuppies receive their “real” education from frat houses and sororities. At UofT it was Gate House, which sadly was shut down a few years ago and ending almost a century of “light” hazing and male commodore. Notorious party animals, UofT engineers can write a book about the subject. I was fortunate enough to attend an engineering secret society party once and all I can say about that experience is that those guys do not kid around!
If you want to see a yuppie snorting cocaine off a stripper’s stomach or throwing hundreds of dollars at a bartender, then head over to one of those hip King Street lounges and get yourself a good seat.
Confession time: though I call myself a yuppie, by definition I’m not really. For one thing, I am poor and still cling on to the penny-scrimping mentality that held me over as a student. You will never see me in designer digs, mostly because I would rather spend hundreds of dollars on food and booze and concert tickets, over time.
I’m a different breed of yuppie: a young urban professional who likes to look good but stays on a tight budget, who has a full-time job but does it half-assed, who would rather go to a poetry reading or hang out with a few close friends at one of the pubs near her old university than spend $10 on a glass of martini at some trendy lounge.
I am what you would call a yuppie in transition. Fresh out of Uni, still temping or in a full-time entry level office job, living in a decent place and paying slightly higher rent for a slightly bigger place. There will be a time when that temp job becomes a full-time/permanent and I’m under 30 and making $60000 a year, then I’ll be a full-fledged yuppie. For now, I shall enjoy pretending to be important and rich, but in reality insignificant and poor, while waiting for life to come down hard, slap me in the face a couple of times, and say “your life as a yuppie poser is no more, it is time to embrace a life of financial security and responsibility.”