I love the fake roses with thorns

When I got to the photo studio, the lady behind the country took $10 from me, cloaked me in a shirt and robe, and left me in the lobby next to a styrofoam faux castle front. Would this be a background option? My photographer was a skinny pregnant woman who had to shake the camera to get it to work, and spoke to me like I speak to the birds sometimes - go like this - yuh! and this - yuh! move back - yuh!

She positioned me into all the unwanted positions of a political opportunist, a sleazy banker, a baseball player up to bat, except instead of a bat, I gripped a bundle of roses - why was I leaning forward like this? If university had done anything to me, it had permanently mutated my posture. Now, when I graduate, they attach me to a rack. "Little smile!" said my mousy photographer. "Now say money!"

It occurred to me for the first time today that I have a bachelor of English and I'm employed in my field. For the benefit of all people who sounded sincerely sympathetic when asking me about my degree, "Ugh huh, and what are you going to do with that?" I want to say to them,

never condescend to a writer.

Some of you familiar with my job may counter, but Laura, this is a contract job that isn't even full time. Do you suppose you'll keep landing contract book jobs the rest of your life?

I have already thought of that. The book will obviously turn into a franchise, and I am numero uno yes-woman for selling trinkets from our fictional world. Not only that, but I'm going to contact Pepsi, to see if they're interested in a product placement in exchange for letting us have our meetings in Hawaii. Fair is fair.

Think of it: "As Cody toyed with the idea launching his revenge, he remembered that he had something in his back pocket - a Pepsi. Sweat dripped down his arms and face as he splashed the liquid bliss into his parched mouth. Yum."

Tai chi twister, GMO ninja fish, martial arts kid slot-machines - the possibilities are endless. Journals of Wu fake newsletters to encourage kids to keep reading. Can you see how I am bursting with altruism with the thought of all those bouncy spent-thrift children? It makes me never want to sleep.