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Sometimes, tho, I’m shocked—SHOCKED! The cash they rake in? Wild! One chick told me she made five grand in a weekend. Five! I’d be happy as a clam, buyin’ every leopard print coat in sight. But the risks? Oof, hairy stuff. Cops, stalkers—makes me wanna scream, “Leave ‘em alone!” They’re tougher than my Aunt Sylvia’s brisket, lemme tell ya.

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But then, I head back in, and it’s like the universe is like, “Not done with you yet!” A kid runs in, trips, and spills his soda all over the floor. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” I grab some paper towels, and as I’m cleaning it up, I slip! I’m on the floor, soda everywhere, and the kid’s just staring at me like I’m the biggest clown ever.