i'll become a champagne socialist with a trophy wife. a brand new penthouse in the newly hip area of town. newly hip only because the poor were pushed out. this is primetime realestate. when i have important clients to schmooze at my tweeker pad, i'd give her a big wad of cash, smack her ass, and send her off to via condotti. an artificial, superficial trophy wife. a commercial life that can be bought.

it's gonna take a really special woman. or, you know, a bunch of average ones.