…rock some awesome pant suits. I mean, I might look chubby in them but whatever, I’d be a fixer. So…I would fix myself and then make out with the President. In my world the President is a Nick Carter that can hold an intelligent conversation.
What else would I do? Well, I would help everyone with their problems by rocking the right weaves and lipsticks. The weave would enhance my confidence (read: bullshitting skills) and my hair flick would lead to miraculous bingo moments. My theme song would be oh-oh-oh-oh, the right weave.
My matte red lipstick would just mesmerise my clients into forgetting that they have problems. It would be perfect.
After I’m done helping others people using superficiality, I’d try to help myself. I would walk around angrily and demand that Nick Carter pay for me to have somebody tidy my stuff. Mostly because he can afford it and partly because I have a dodgy back. I would then employ people with even more questionable methods than my own. I’d hire Kanye West as my fashion consultant. A free pair of Yeezys will keep the bed bugs away. Or well, minor political hiccups. I’d probably fire Kanye after three hours but via sky writing because I’m a badass.
Once that is over, I’d angrily demand ice cream and a new power suit. I would them proceed to eat said ice cream while watching the Disney Channel. Or as I like to call it, The What Your Favorite Pop Stars Look Like Before They Decide That Clothing And Rational Behaviour Are Optional channel.
After that I’d call Oprah and demand to add to her life school series. Particularly the Power Suit Strut Your Way Through
A Ridiculous TV Show Life class.
I don’t think I would be a very good Olivia Pope, y’all. I would probably break a lot of things and potentially a few people too.
The most I’d fix is a cappuccino for anyone that wants some coffee.
So…I think I’ll stick to being myself.