h a l f b a k e r y
Professional croissant on closed course. Do not attempt.
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In these days of millionaire, space tourists, a living could certainly be made by flatteringly filming a typical day in the life of middle class and up customers. The slightly narcissistic, leading actor could mesmerize family and friends with the result, save it for posterity or keep it for private
viewing. With perfect lighting, script, soundtrack, makeup, hairdressing and clothes that never seem to stain or wrinkle, your successful life would be recorded almost true-to-life. Though pretending to be a condensed, no-holds-barred documentary, it would feature unblemished skin and show only advantageous views of your buns:
You wake energetic and unruffled, and, after serving your family a wholesome breakfast in bed, you speed off to work, taking the traffic-free curves in your sparkling auto as if starring in a car commercial. You impress the boss by clinching another account and generously pledge the resulting bonus to Moscow street urchins and Madagascar reforestation. On your coffee break, you whip off a winner idea that has the halfbakers cheering and inundating you in French pastry. Admiring colleagues hang on your every witty, insightful word through lunch. On the way home from work, you encounter a car-jacker who is neatly dealt with by a stunt double. Later, your family spends quality time with you, and, amid lively, intellectual conversation, partakes of your five-star fare. The short movie ends with you meditatively viewing the sunset to recharge your batteries followed by a murky, bedroom shot of your adoring spouse clinging to your slumbering, graphically-enhanced body.
sort of like this [FarmerJohn, Jun 09 2002]
a little like this [FarmerJohn, Jun 09 2002]
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