I often have ideas that other people have also had. Sometimes, I have an idea, and I think O that will never take off, and then someone else has it and it does. These ideas have included a lot of things, e.g.:
- a cone for putting peppercorns in your pepper mill without them jizzing all over the counter;
- a comedy sex blog;
- a blog about apostrophe's in the wrong place;*
- crossing a poodle with a cocker spaniel and calling the outcome a "cockapoo";
- putting sheep grease and old fish eyes in a pot, calling it "Cream of the Sea" and selling it for $453.
Etc.
For some years (I have witnesses), I have, when "in my cups", told people about my favourite idea of all: a troupe of persons of smaller stature assembled for the purpose of serving superior Mexican-styled snacks.
Imagine it, if you will: you are having a cock-tail party. Everyone is standing around having a drink etc. They are a bit bored and also a bit hungry. You are an anxious AND caring host and/or hostess and you do not want your guests to have a bad time - but you are not worried. Why? Because you have hired my Miniature Troupe.
There is a lull in the conversation. Suddenly, the enticing strains of a top-quality Mariachi recording are heard, seamlessly communicated via your high-resolution Bose soundsystem. There is a scuffle. Something is happening at elbow height. "A snack?". You look down. There is a sombrero upon the head of a person of smaller stature. The crown is pushed in a little; in the dent nestles some high-quality salsa. And on the brim - need you ask? - there are gathered tortilla chips of the highest calibre.
Long have I thought that this could be my way out: the passport, as it were, to a life of relaxed entrepreneurialism, conducted from a hammock and/or armchair, with only a telephone, small clay pipe and glass of absinthe for company.
And tonight, finally, it seems this dream could come true: only tonight, I used the Google and typed in "small person in sombrero". And what came up? Why, this: proof, if I needed it, that either a) someone has had the idea already; or b) that there is a definite market (as the marketing johnnies say) for my idea. Either way, I think I am going to do it. Anyone in?
Pipa Pipa!
NWM
* see what I did there?
P.S. Gigantor-sized apologies: have had to put comment moderation on for a bit as am being spammed up the wazoo by some mentalists and it's doing my head in. Normal service will be resumed as soon as I have found them and broken their keyboards with an old rolling pin.
- a cone for putting peppercorns in your pepper mill without them jizzing all over the counter;
- a comedy sex blog;
- a blog about apostrophe's in the wrong place;*
- crossing a poodle with a cocker spaniel and calling the outcome a "cockapoo";
- putting sheep grease and old fish eyes in a pot, calling it "Cream of the Sea" and selling it for $453.
Etc.
For some years (I have witnesses), I have, when "in my cups", told people about my favourite idea of all: a troupe of persons of smaller stature assembled for the purpose of serving superior Mexican-styled snacks.
Imagine it, if you will: you are having a cock-tail party. Everyone is standing around having a drink etc. They are a bit bored and also a bit hungry. You are an anxious AND caring host and/or hostess and you do not want your guests to have a bad time - but you are not worried. Why? Because you have hired my Miniature Troupe.
There is a lull in the conversation. Suddenly, the enticing strains of a top-quality Mariachi recording are heard, seamlessly communicated via your high-resolution Bose soundsystem. There is a scuffle. Something is happening at elbow height. "A snack?". You look down. There is a sombrero upon the head of a person of smaller stature. The crown is pushed in a little; in the dent nestles some high-quality salsa. And on the brim - need you ask? - there are gathered tortilla chips of the highest calibre.
Long have I thought that this could be my way out: the passport, as it were, to a life of relaxed entrepreneurialism, conducted from a hammock and/or armchair, with only a telephone, small clay pipe and glass of absinthe for company.
And tonight, finally, it seems this dream could come true: only tonight, I used the Google and typed in "small person in sombrero". And what came up? Why, this: proof, if I needed it, that either a) someone has had the idea already; or b) that there is a definite market (as the marketing johnnies say) for my idea. Either way, I think I am going to do it. Anyone in?
Pipa Pipa!
NWM
* see what I did there?
P.S. Gigantor-sized apologies: have had to put comment moderation on for a bit as am being spammed up the wazoo by some mentalists and it's doing my head in. Normal service will be resumed as soon as I have found them and broken their keyboards with an old rolling pin.
7 comments:
Go for cockapoo breeding.
Have a look at apostrophe abuse
http://www.apostropheabuse.com/
They beat you to it.
Good luck with the rolling pin revenge!
Yes you see that is my 'little joke' - that someone has already done it!! I am not writing very well these days, poor me, poor everyone. Sigh.
My neighbors had a Peke-a-poo (pekingese plus poodle) and then THAT dog was a bit indiscreet with another poodle and the resulting puppies were dubbed Peke-a-poo-poos. True that.
As for the small-people-with-sombrero thing, I'm afraid you lost me with "the enticing strains of a top-quality Mariachi recording" because a) there is NO SUCH THING as enticing Mariachi and b) No really, Mariachi is evil. Satan does his morning pilates to Mariachi.
Sorry about the spammy spammers. They probably play Mariachi.
I invented tiny windscreen wipers for car headlights, around 1970. Unfortunately Volvo et seq decided to actually DO it. As for apostrophe abusers.... don't get me started. I am the founding and only member of 'Ampersand', my Campaign for the Abolition of the Errant Apostrophe, started in 1973, but as yet have never had the nerve to correct anything or anybody, or even to leave a polite and winsome calling card pointing out their mistake.
I think you might have forgotten the towel holder that looks like a cat's bottom: http://tinyurl.com/68df87j
The thing that is particularly pleasing is that the website concerned is called England at Home.
Where can I get one of those peppercorn funnels?
Why only last night I was trying to pour them through a regular funnel - not wide enough you see - and then scrabbling round on the bench and subsequently the floor to retrieve all those that had missed their target. It was infuriating. In hindsight (ie just as I was typing this) I realise I could have jury-rigged something suitable out of paper, but at the time such a thought was out of my grasp.
This may be why I am not rich.
I have one question: If I agree to wear the sombrero, may I help myself to the contents whilst serving said?
Also: Your writing is fine. I got the "little joke" immediately. But then, I am a veritable comma Nazi, so there's that.
*desperately hopes no apostrophes have been harmed in the creation of this comment*
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