Smell the Coffee

My friend, who for the purpose of this blog will be referred to as "India," and I were discussing our futures.Well, we weren't, until I revealed that I have come to the conclusion that all I really want is to work for myself and be my own boss. She informed me she agrees, and would like to own a coffee shop/lending library/advice hut. Besides the last two thirds of her dream business, I have always romanticized owning such an establishment myself. Someplace I would enjoy spending my days in, drinking coffee on dangerously comfortable pieces of furniture, worlds away inside an exciting page-turner, just...relaxed.

Of course I understand there is a reality behind this vision of freedom. Like, you know, actually haveing to work there, and not just sit and relax. I would have to deal with customers, pleasant and unpleasant, clean, run around frantically filling orders, and be up veeerry early in the morning. Even if there were others employed at my Cafe Libertà, they could always call in sick, or just be generally lazy and unhelpful. Especially just starting off...to start something like this and push to see it through...it takes real dedication. And while I love fantasizing about it, it's hard to say if it's really anything beyond a romantic dream. I don't know if it's a passion, a drive, a need-to-got-to-can't-live-without-you vision.

I sure can picture it though. Sigh.

Plus, neither India nor I are any good at math. So it'd be hard to get it started when we are not skilled in the money-handling-counting-out-finance-doing. Maybe we'd get a third partner? Nah - three's unstable. And a crowd...but also company? Huh...

Whoomp there it is!

Forget my last post. Who needs a real job when I can jump on the stupid-sching-people-will-buy bandwagon!

My dear friend was kind enough to introduce me to these beauties...

Before:                                                 

After:

What are these, you ask? Oh, well, they're crotch shots of ladies...well, crotches! Let's play a game, shall we? I recall something of the sort from Highlights magazine and Sesame Street. Can you find the one difference between these two photos? Look closely...that's it...yep, you're getting warmer...aha! You got it! The disappearing camel toe! Viola! And all thanks to Camelflage panties!

Sigh. Let's be honest, I cringe as much as the next person when I am visually assaulted by public C-toe, but honestly? Is it too much to ask that maybe, maybe people just start wearing pants that fit and aren't three sizes too small? Oh, wait, what's that? It is too much to ask? Well, pardon me!

This isn't the only underwear offender. The padded panties, or rump rounders (as I like to call them), are ridiculous inventions that I almost can't believe ever were invented at all:

I don't think this is what Sir Mix-a-lot had in mind...

These are two prime examples of, well junk. One puts more junk in your trunk, and the other helps you pretend that you don't actually have any junk at all. So, it seems to me, that if I can just come up with some new and improved take on junk, I could make my fortune!

Hmm, it seems the ladies are covered (for now!).Perhaps something for the gents? What about all those plumbers who are fit and trim, and own belts? They must be mocked by others in their profession for lacking crack. Maybe, for these fanny shy lads, I could make Y-backs instead of Y-fronts! Genius!

Tada!

I sense a hit here, folks! Wealth and fortune, here I come!