I’ve opened every Tits and Sass article I’ve written by talking about how disgruntled I am. Let’s not stop now. To reiterate, I got into this industry largely out of desperation, found the niche I hate the least (pro-switching) and currently spend half my time building my business and the other half trying not to tear it down. Needless to say, I was pretty sure that I didn’t have any goals to accomplish before retiring. Then I saw Johanna’s plan to get a pug, and it hit me hard, in the face, like a flogger thrown by a jackass client: I must go out on an epic troll spree. Here’s my equivalent of scamming a dog out of a rich dude and running:

1. Change my working name to Mistress Meghan Julie Rhoda Murphy Bindel Grant

…Esquire. If a client fails to address me by my full name, I will revoke all of his human rights. You know, for his own good.

2. Figure out a way to sell just about anything as a fetish item.

Should I throw this old sweatshirt in the Goodwill pile? No, I’ll just rub it with onions and period panties and sell it as Mistress’s hot, smelly workout clothes. (LOL. Me. Work out.) Is it time to toss this old toothbrush? No, it’s time to go on Ebanned, and post about Madame’s filthy little butt tickler. Should I take out the cat litter? Don’t be silly; that poop is for the pathetic slaves who aren’t good enough for the Queen’s own chocolate. Put it in some Tupperware and ship it!