I was back at my parents in Houston the summer after my ill fated stint trying to make it as a sales person at a hip gallery in SoHo ended up as a complete and expensive failure; apparently it is not a good idea to talk a potential buyer out of a painting, even if the painting is pure shit, and has no sense of composition or color, especially when the gallery manager is standing a few feet away when said conversation takes place, and a girlfriend of mine from highschool, who had taken a completely different route; living the collegiate life at University of Texas, on the cheerleading squad and pledging Kappa Kappa Gamma was also home for the summer planning her wedding to the dreamy Austin native, Kip Anderson, and she desperately needed a
