I ate a lot of food and grew very large, but then I paid my tailor to alter my suitcoat, so now I look slim.
I also own many museums, which I visit periodically. I employ at least one curator to manage each establishment. During my visit, I walk slowly from room to room and observe the artworks that my curators displayed. If I don't like the look of a painting, I just point at it and jerk my thumb, which means "Get this one outta here," and some security guards then hasten to yank the picture off the wall. They haul the canvas, frame and all, across the room and toss it out the window, and it lands in a vast pit that is filled with rejected art. If an army ever marches past one of my museums and discovers its discard pit, the soldiers will not be able to control themselves: they will all break out of their lockstep-march, dash over and rummage thru the rejected works until every man finds a piece to his liking. Each individual soldier will hug his chosen painting to his chest while returning to formation. Then they'll all march away as one disciplined troop again.
Also I enjoy the feeling of falling, so I purchased a skyscraper and surrounded its base with queen-size mattresses: they're arranged in a circle around the building's foundation. The idea is that now when I jump from the skyscraper's top floor, there is a good chance that something soft will break my fall. It's fun; you should try it. The only place I couldn't fit any mattresses is on the southeast corner, where an array of air-conditioning units is mounted next to an assortment of metal electric boxes: so that's the only dangerous area, which I try to avoid.
You might be wondering how I can afford to live so large. How can one man own so many museums and toss so much art out the windows? And why leap from a skyscraper?
I wish I could answer these questions, but I can't.
My reason for existence is to beautify people. When a businesswoman enters my shop (I am the owner of a beauty shop), I say "Lie down," and she reclines upon the stone slab that is near the main supercomputers. I then paint her eyelashes and eyelids, and apply lipstick to her lips. Then I use an angelically soft brush to daub makeup over her forehead, cheeks, and chin. After locating an available outlet to plug in the curling iron, I tap my foot and gaze at my wristwatch until the iron grows hot, at which point I use it to curl my customer's hair. I then inspect the area of the hosiery that is commonly visible — around each calf and shin: from the ankle up to the skirt's hemline — and I mend any rips. Then I polish her shoes. I also paint her fingernails.
And whenever grizzly bears wander into my shop, I handle the situation like a pro. I pace right over and stand directly in front of each bear bravely. I jut forth my arm and firmly press the bear's belly with my palm and shout "No!" Then I shout "Back off! Get out of here! This is NOT a place for you! I have no salmon! Go away!" And the bear usually hangs its head, seemingly in disappointment, and slowly turns around and leaves. This always makes me feel pity; but I can't have grizzly bears hanging out in my beauty shop; for they terrify customers. Plus they would probably soon find my stash of salmon.
Yes, my advice for anyone who is thinking about starting up a beauty shop is: DO NOT construct your establishment out of logs on a patch of land that wild beasts are known to frequent. Or, if there is no alternative but to set your foundation in the midst of a well-populated jungle or rainforest, then DO NOT befriend the creatures who wander in and around the wooden joists and beams while you are hammering together the frame of your shop's structure, before you've had a chance to finish the drywall and put a roof on your shop and add shingles and rain-gutters. Additionally, DO NOT let these curious creatures approach the supercomputers by the stone slab that serves as your "beautifying station"... & if a grizzly happens to lie down on this slab, DO NOT EVER administer to them the "royal spa treatment package"; for this could create a bond between your species which might provoke trouble in futurity: feelings might get hurt, since eventually you must break this accord — relationships could suffer as a consequence of your initial compassion.
Also, if you lease a car to travel to and from your workplace, don't feel that you must settle for the vehicle's natural appearance: You can use a flathead screwdriver or pry bar to remove the hood so that the engine is permanently exposed (this look never goes out of fashion), and borrow your neighbor's reciprocating saw to cut the top the frame away; then add french cleats to reinstall the piece that you removed, so you now have a detachable roof.
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