You decide to see just how gullible your customers are. You start selling a Vagina Purse, a purse within your "purse.". Your first customer is an attractive woman in her late twenties wearing a tight white dress who asks for the bag. "Um...what's it do?" you ask. "It's a vagina," she says. "Well, what else does it do?" "Oh, I don't know. It has all sorts of things inside of it". The woman opens the purse and pulls out a flimsy tank top. You tell the woman that she has to pay for that. "You yank it, you bank it." The woman looks at you with disgust. "I'm not going to yank your tank top!" She puts the tank top back into the purse. Then you get another woman in her early thirties. This one is more talkative than the previous one. "So, can I have this one too?" she asks. "Sure," you say. You realize the woman is Jennifer Lawrence. She asks you if an Oscar can fit in the purse. "No, but you can shove it up your ass," you tell her. Jennifer Lawrence gets very excited about the whole thing. "Is there anything else I should know before I buy this shit? Like, will it make my boobs grow or something?" You say "Uh, yeah, sure it will." "Okay, so what happens next?" "Next, you go over to a friend of yours and give them this purse. They'll take care of everything". Jennifer Lawrence goes over to her friend and gives him the bag. The friend hands the bag to Jennifer Lawrence. Jennifer Lawrence takes it to her car where she drives off to your house. You call the police and tell them Jennifer Lawrence has a purse full of cocaine and must be arrested. You hang up the phone with an evil smile. THE END of Jennifer Lawrence's career. She appears on TMZ with the title: "Mystique actress caught with crack!" Jennifer Lawrence's career is ruined. You call a store meeting and give everyone the day off. You drive to your pilates class, cackling the whole way. Suddenly, a car crashes into you. A man gets out of the car... and then he dies! You survive, but the other driver is dead. You're in shock and you try to call 911, but nobody picks up. Finally, someone calls back and tells you to calm down. He says, "It was an accident. We were doing 70 miles per hour when we hit you". You get out of your car and look at the dead driver. You realize it's your father. He died from his injuries. Your mother is devastated. She cries a lot. The people around her are also upset. "What happened?" they ask. "A guy ran a red light and killed my father and his girlfriend", you reply. You bury your father in a GOOP coffin made from salvaged driftwood, $6,000. You dry you tears with an Egyptian cotton hankercheif, $200. Now you've got a new problem. You need to find a job. If you had waited until after the funeral, you could have gotten a job as a waiter or a waitress. But now you don't have any money left to wait around for work. What would you do? You sell yourself on Goop for 100 million dollars. > You become a celebrity You decide to become a celebrity. You post photos of yourself on Instagram. People want to meet you. You sign autographs for free. You even book rooms at the Beverly Hills Hotel for $500 a night. After three months, you still haven't found a real job. You spend most of your time hanging out at parties. You decide to become the Party Queen of Beverly Hills. You wear a tiara and a crown. People flock to you. One fan even buys you a mansion. But then someone breaks into your mansion while you're sleeping. They steal your diamond necklace. You break down crying. Everyone else in the room watches you cry. Then you lose your fortune. You don't even care about the money. You are still so full of grief from killing your own father. You decide to overdose on crack cocaine in the bathroom of a party hosted by Jay Z. (This story has been adapted from a true event.) When you wake up, you feel like you just lost a child. You're sad, angry, lonely, depressed, confused, anxious, paranoid, psychotic, and delusional. You have no idea how you survived this. At this point, you're just a shell of your former self.