They either begin at my feet, thanks to my black leather, oh so sweet floral mary-janes, or my chest.

Last night, I made the very distasteful joke bitterly based on the so-called "economically inviable" degree I possess. (Quote from one of my cousins who already has a job waiting when he graduates this year.) If really desperate, I could try my hand as one of those bust enhancement models.

Said joke ended with my mom glaring at me, and me pretending to be innocent of any foray into bad taste.