mink pink skirt, katherine barclay leather & suede jacket, gap tshirt, nine west boots
Nah. I'm not really into smoking the stuff myself, but I've always wanted to deal drugs. Particularly cannabis.
While some people dream of becoming corporate execs or smooth-talking reps, I had sweet smoky dreams of riding around the city on a vintage Schwinn distributing illegal products through a sham that I was just another virtuous cyclist, working on my quads and my tan.
I had everything planned. The Biking Baroness of Bud. That's what they'd call me. I would play the role of honey-dipped hippie. My manner would be cool, collected but underlined with the don't-mess-with-me-cause-I'll-fuck-shit-up attitude that all successful dealers must posses.
My uniform would consist of pigtails, too-short shorts from the seventies and high-top Chucks. Blowing bubbles with my gum and whistling dixie.
I envisioned rolling into a neighborhood and ring-a-linging my bike bell like the ice cream man announcing his presence. All the kids and suburban moms would come running.out and I would do drive-by business. Who the heck isn't going to trust a freckled girl on a bike with Lolita shades and a sincere smile?
I figured this was a sure-fire summer gig. My revenue would be greater than my overhead costs. The only foreseeable threats would be a high-speed chase and a potential slap-on-the-wrist...nothing I couldn't handle.
Also, I already HAD a getaway plan and my line of work was environmentally responsible.
Selling green while being green.
Who's gonna stop me?
But alas, some dreams die hard. I have no current plans to fulfill this career aspiration anytime soon. Having a 'legit' job doesn't really afford me with time to wheel and deal (....that and, I'm sure my boss reads this blog, so I don't think he would be too thrilled to see me pedaling around his 'hood in cotton-candy pink shorts and a backpack full of trouble).
If the writing thing doesn't work out, I suppose I can always chalk this up as plan B.