By now, I thought I would’ve come up with a brilliant method of earning fast cash. When I was young, I excelled at trading with my fellow classmates to get the best and most elite snack foods available to kids. Things like Dunk-A-Roos and Pop Tarts adored my Dick Tracy lunch box. Despite my early success, I appear to be stuck in a rut regarding potential ways of making money other than basic office work.
Soon I’ll be willingly taking on tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of debt in an attempt to better myself as a person. While I’m no doubt excited by this prospect, I’m worried about how I’m going to pay for it. Additionally, my whole life will improve leaps and bounds beyond my current status in life. But I will no doubt need considerably more money in order to feel comfortable with this dramatic change. I’m not sure how I’ll pay for food; I don’t want to be a freegan. Freegans seem too badass for me, I lack the suave skills needed to sort through garbage looking for foods. Besides, I’m sick and tired of seeing rats all over the place (like you do in New York City) so seeing them up close and personal, wrestling them for food doesn’t sound particularly appealing.
I guess I now know what Jay-Z was referring to when he said:
“I got 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one.”
I’d say the word ‘bitch’ has some negative connotations. Instead of that nasty word, why not use the phrase “my significant other who I care deeply about and support me in my time of need”. That way you acknowledge the support such a person provides without diminishing their contribution towards making you a better person.
Anyway, I went through some ideas in order to raise money. Stocking up on huge amount of Mallomars and reselling them in the summer when they aren’t available in supermarkets seemed promising. The more I looked into it; I realized I’d need them to be temperature-controlled so the chocolate doesn’t melt. Besides, I’d probably eat most of them by the time summer rolled around.
Selling my body on the street for money never came up. I’m just a sloth, so I’m pretty lazy regarding street walking. For me, it would be more of a molasses-paced crawl. Who’d be interested in a sloth for that sort of thing? Sloths don’t exactly have any tricks, since we’re far too slow to make any of those things appealing.
Finally, I considered writing a book. Writing a book is difficult; I have no idea why people criticize writers so much. Each time I see somebody say “I could’ve written a better book/story/thing” I say: Do it. Maybe I’m easy on writers, but I feel those who put themselves out there to potentially risk their very essence, those are tough people in their own right. I’ve written those Nanowrimo things before, but that’s hardly writing. Someday I might write a book, but I have worries that even if I did get one out, it wouldn’t raise the necessary capital I’d need.
Hopeless, I walked to the freezer to get myself a microwavable dinner. Eating a Stouffer’s microwavable dinner alone, I thought whoever created this must have been a genius. Perhaps one of the greatest accomplishments man has had in recent years hasn’t been ending the ethnic strife that overwhelms so many parts of our world, but making a delicious meal ready in mere minutes.
Curious, I went onto the Stouffer website, to see if I could help them out with their elite brand. They have so many choices, from the elegant ‘Corner Bistro’ to the verging on healthy ‘Farmers’ Harvest’. English is such a great language; it can be stretched so many ways. Clearly the Stouffer people were able to apply the words “Farmers” and “Harvest” to ‘frozen dried-out microwavable products’, no mean feat.
Going through their website, you see how they have a hotline. Part of me wanted to call them, to keep that hotline keeper interested. I wanted to ask who would need to call up a hotline for microwavable products. Were people really so stupid that they needed help on how to properly microwave their dinner products? I hoped not.
Right as I was about to turn away from their website, dejected at finding nothing I could contribute, I saw it. The light at the end of the tunnel beckoned me with an outstretched finger asking “Come hither”. My financial woes had the potential for being solved, all while staying at home.
They had articles. Not just ordinary, “Hey put it in the motherfucking microwave” cooking tips, but full-fledged articles. If we ever came into a dystopian future, Stouffer’s wouldn’t need to change its website articles at all. While the articles appeared to give you good advice, they were all just ruses to convince you of the importance of their food. Like “Oh, remember to clean out your freezer. This is important, because you want to have plenty of space for Stouffer dinners.” Or they try to make you realize how you need some ‘me’ time, since you’re lonely. What could possibly be better at warming your heart than a cholesterol-filled product from the fictitious Bistro?
All this time I spent writing on my blog, wasted. I could’ve been chasing big dreams writing puff pieces for microwavable dinners. Hello my future, I’ve been waiting for you to arrive, for you to sweep me off my feet. I’ve already contacted Stouffer’s; now can be my chance at the big leagues of writing up articles for Stouffers products. But why stop there? I’m sure I have some great material for other products as well. Like for Hot Pockets:
“Are you sick of waiting for the future? Well, in the future all food comes in pocket form. Eat up!”
Or Celeste Pizza for one:
“Cut this tiny pizza up into slices to pretend you’re feeding it to your cats, your true friends”
Or Morningstar Farms:
“Are you an entry-level vegetarian? If so, please purchase this post-haste.”
Let’s see how much money I can earn through the lucrative advertising/journalism hybrid which apparently exists. Maybe I don’t need to worry about money. Maybe everything will work itself out. I’ll keep you informed as I enjoy my delightful Corner Bistro Smoked Turkey Club Panini.