Lemonade Stand By Your Man

Honey, let me give you a little advice. If you are having issues with your man, you might want to consider whether they spring from the fact that you appear to be the owner and operator of a lemonade stand, a time-honored profession practiced primarily by eight-year-olds. Statistically speaking, this means that your man is probably either a pre-teen or a pedophile. Either way, we're not really talking about a class of men noted for their deep emotional constancy, am I right? While I don't want to impugn your true and enduring love, I'm just saying that the next time your man reaches into his wallet to leave a quarter on your nightstand, you might want to take a peek at his driver's license and see if his name is Humbert Humbert.


Furthermore, while "Before and After" may be my favorite category on Wheel of Fortune, this does not make it an appropriate nail polish naming mechanism. (To any OPI namers who insist that before-and-after with Every Word Capitalized is a viable human method of communication, let me riposte by saying that Your Momma Is So Fat That The Probability She Occupies A Randomly-Selected Point Within A Room Is One Day I Am Going To Learn How To Send My Fist Through The Internet And Punch You In The Face.)

Actually, I greatly prefer this name when taken literally, i.e., Lemonade Stand in Close Geographical Proximity to Your Man. This take on it raises all sorts of interesting questions. I mean, there are not a lot of lemonade stands, so it's pretty unlikely that your man just happens to be near one. Did you seduce your man based solely on his convenient distance from the nearest lemonade-serving establishment? The fact that you named your nail polish after the lemonade stand rather than your fellow leads me to believe this may be your general order of priorities. It's OK to be honest, I love lemonade too. Also, what if your man doesn't remain stationary all day? If your lemonade stand stays put while he moves around, your nail polish would be unacceptably out of vogue. I think the only solution is a lemonade version of that Japanese vending-machine skirt. Manufacturers, call me. We can split the profits fifty-fifty.