For personal reasons (don’t ask) I’ve decided to strike out on my own business-wise, so I’m flogging my company, Tart Cookies back to life. This involves a whole lot of red tape, creating new accounts, and designing a logo that doesn’t look like a third grader’s rendition of two giraffes copulating (and you thought they were reading National Geographic for the stimulating articles).

Since I can’t afford pot roast, I thought I’d look into grants for small businesses. The internet tells me that the government is throwing free money at anyone with a pulse. I thought I’d look into it now, since the end of the Mayan calendar is just around the corner. (It’s also the reason that I’m not currently looking for a parking spot at the mall.)

For a modest fee, a team of experts will guide me through the process with no guarantees that I’ll get the grant. This smacks strongly of “bend over and take it in the rear.” I know that trying to find a grant on my own would take me into the next millennium (assuming the world doesn’t end), so I’ll start my business the old fashioned way—hemorrhaging money like a gaping chest wound.

They say you’ve got to spend money to make money. Done and done. In less than a month, my fledgling business has spent $250 and made $16. I love it when a plan comes together.

Still, I have full artistic license up the wazoo. I can write about vegetarian cannibals and rise or fall depending on my writing and marketing skills. Fortunately, I have a dear friend who works as my marketing director. I pay her in Three Musketeer bars and empty promises. She researches advertising, sets up gigs for me, and nags me about having my business cards handy at all times. I kind of suck at all the above, so I’m truly blessed to have her on my team. (Hee hee, I have a team.)

I’ve re-published Box of Rocks under my own label, and hope to have my humor book out in February or March. Wish me luck, and you can send contributions to hopelessoptimist.com.