Vicarious Heisting: Why I will never be filthy rich.

    To begin I feel like I should let you all know that I was browsing through my settings and discovered a whole mess of gadgets that can be added to the side of this blog. For instance if I so chose I could have a world clock, teeth whitening tip of the day, and a slideshow of cute baby animals running down the side of this post! 
   Don't worry I would never do that- although I have to admit I was rather infatuated with the "Mr. T quote of the day" gadget. I'm still thinking of adding it- because who doesn't need a little more Mr. T in their life? I'll let you all weigh in on that yourselves. Anyway...
  
     I would make a great criminal. Really I would. I'm smart enough and have an unhealthy addiction to heist films. Any movie where the bad guys are the good guys and somebody manages to con some mean rich guy out of millions is probably already on my DVD shelf.
    Even as a child I was able to convince adults of almost anything in order to get what I wanted. With the right incentives I can make myself pale and sickly looking or easily allow people to think I am in charge of any situation. Also I'm pretty sure that if you walk into any establishment wearing a business-casual outfit and sexy heels people will believe you. (You see what Leverage has done to me?)

   The thing is I can't handle the pressure. I'm easily stressed and have an overwhelming fear of being caught. I believe my parents are mostly to blame for this. My entire childhood was rife with an "actions have consequences" mentality. The media will lead you to believe that criminals had bad childhoods. My recent experiences tell me they also never got spanked. There are now thousands of people entering adulthood that don't understand the fear of getting paddled across the backside with the wooden spoon of the law.*

     *I only got spanked with a wooden spoon once that I can remember and in my parents defense I totally deserved it. I was the sixty-pound female version of Jekyll and Hyde.
   
    While I believe I am capable of being the mastermind behind some devious scheme, I would also be the person following everyone around as they sneak through empty skyscrapers full of money, giggling nervously and whispering things like "Oh we are sooooo gonna caught you guys!..... Seriously I'm freaking out right now..... check the security cameras again please... how is there not a single person in this building right now?.... I have to pee 'cause I'm nervous....."


   The point is sometimes it's annoying having been raised in such a well-adjusted environment. I'm sure I could be making bank as a small-time thief if only I'd had an absentee father and a mother who didn't care what sort of trouble we got into. Although I also might not be as smart since if it had been up to me I would have dropped out of school at age seven. It's my own little Catch 22.
   The thing is I feel torn every time I walk into a store. My first instinct is to figure out exactly how to steal something or take advantage of them in some way, but then my second instinct is to immediately warn them about these holes in their security, because it's the right thing to do.

   However, there are certain branches of criminal activity that are less morally black and white. For instance I am pretty convinced I would make a great Pot Dealer. I know this because during finals week I have at least two people a day come up and ask me if I have any.
    At first I dismissed this by rationalizing that these people are probably just asking everyone that question, but then a friend pointed out that I always look completely stoned during finals. This is due to the red-eyed result of sleep deprivation combined with the fact that I have abnormally large pupils regardless of lighting.
   This has been a problem in the past: I was asked by several different teachers in high school if I was high. I assumed it was a natural response to my artistic inclinations, since roughly 96% of the "artists" in my town actually were high (although that number is probably accurate for most of Colorado).

    If it weren't for my annoying moral compass I would just take advantage of this misunderstanding and just start selling the stuff. I've seen Weeds*, I know how the business works. Also I still have left-over Vicodin from my knee surgery and I hear that stuff is almost as good as crack on the street.
     
                   *At this point it has once again become apparent that TV has taught me everything I need to know about being a criminal. Hollywood, you're despicable and I love you.  


    But there are even more road-blocks on this career path for me, most of which are once again traced back to healthy family dinners and Sunday-school lessons. I can't be mean to people. Oh I want to be. You are all too well aware of the thoughts that run through my head on a regular basis. The horrible things my brain snarls at people who inconvenience me even a little.... but I can't say them. I like to blame it on my job- I say I have to be nice or I'll get fired. Yet even when I'm not at work my default mode is "begrudgingly polite".
   This is because I was raised by one of the nicest people ever. Seriously it's obnoxious, my mother is one of those people who sees the good in everyone and will most definitely end up as the old-lady-with-cookies that I so idolize and will never be.

   So imagine I am a drug-dealer and someone can't pay me. Inside I would be all "You'd better get me my money Mo-Fo or I'ma* bust a cap in yo' ass!!!" and then to their face I would say "Oh... okay well that's fine, if you could just work on that I would really appreciate it... thanks." You see the problem here?

                  * I am so un-gangster I'm not even sure how to spell the improper contraction for the phrase "I am going to"...


   I guess I'll have to settle for heisting vicariously through others. At least on TV criminals look like this:

I would rob an imaginary bank with this man any day.