money

All posts tagged money

Back to square one

Published November 29, 2012 by Sandee

I’ve thought of different ways to make money.  Most of these methods aren’t viable — what do I know about being a madame?  I think of all those hairy gangsters threatening to – I mean offering me buyouts or making me give up ninety percent of my income for ‘protection,’ and it turns me off.

Pity.  I think I have a knack for being a madame, albeit kind of a crazy one.  I would offer my employees benefits and have daycare centers for the ones with families – you know – like Amsterdam.  I had planned to pimp – I meant — to employ men also.  But that idea now is just dust in the wind.

My next way to make loot – being a pirate.  I’d love wearing a black patch over my left eye.  People would think there was such mystery about me, and maybe that I was a bit of a degenerate too.  Oh – and I’d love to tell people to swab the deck and walk the plank.  Do pirates still do that?  I wouldn’t want to be an internet pirate.  Or one of those Somali pirates.  Wasn’t that weird?  Plus – how do pirates make money?  I think they take stuff from people and I don’t like that.  If I’m going to do that I might as well be a cat burglar for a living, and that’s out of the question.

So then I thought I might make cakes because I have passion for it so.  The people would taste the passion and I would get shit loads of customers.  My oven’s from 1980 though.  I’d need those appliances cooks on cable television have.  No way could I afford those!  Just think, the reason I’m considering being a madame, a pirate and a cake baker is because I need extra loot, so kicking out all that cash for state of the art appliances with no certainty of a client base might be fool hardy.  So back to square one, being a broke ass bitch.

Previous Post

Published June 21, 2012 by Sandee

 

I only ever dreamed of being an artist like my dad.  It’s hard.  I never knew what else to do with myself.  I’m a hippy, I think really.  While my tag is Sword-Chinned Bitch, I’m not a bitch and I never wanted to be one.  My brother gave me that name when I was 12.  We’d had a fight.  I was skinny with a sharp chin.  I told people about it in adulthood and they rolled on the floor laughing, so I thought it would work well as a blogger name.  My friend years ago used to call me his hippy chick, but then he said, oh never mind, because he realized that hippies were really wealthy white kids.  I’ve also been called space cadet, kook, weirdo – most affectionately by friends.

I never thought about making money.  I don’t think in terms of money, not really.  Ask me how much I paid for something and I usually can’t tell you.  I don’t even like clothes.  I remember years ago at this company I worked for we had a X-mas party and Lou Hagopian the director said we’d all be getting a $1000 bonus – this was in 1984. We were in an auditorium at a fancy hotel.  Everybody popped up out of their seats and screamed except me.  My coworkers on either side looked down at me.  “Come on Sandee, aren’t you happy,” the one said.  “Oh yeah, sure,” I said.  I rose up to clap, but it was disconnected, an act.  I didn’t know what the fuck it meant that I would have $1000 extra bucks.

I would like to make a vocation of writing.  But I have to enjoy my day to day life and not project to a future that I would like to happen.  At this age I have learned that one needs money and it makes me neurotic.  As long as I’m comfortable being what I am I guess I’m good.