Unemployment...

They are renovating a house down the street (no surprise really... people NEED space for sub-zero's these days) and it happened that in my unemployement I've gotten to see the happy home owner out and about, directing construction workers, directing the gardener (a kept woman of the Faux Hill does a lot of ordering; her entire life is basically a giant life size Starbucks outlet) and well... let's just say that she's used to having work done and I'm not only talking about the house. ZING!
So... what's my point here? There exists in this world a whole underclass of those who don't work, do so by their own choice and are still indepentely wealthy enough that they don't even need to look for a job!
It so happened that I've been hanging out a fair bit in the Rosedale Village (mostly circumstatial and partially practical - I mean if I'm going to meet a gaygetz... I better start hanging out in WASP territory - non?). Today I happened across a member of the Pussy Posse, who as a gang are not really known for doing much other then sitting and drinking coffee; this man, whom I'll call Jesse Raphael, (named for his prediliction of red reading glasses), was sitting with another gaggle of unemployed Rosed Alien men. My first reaction was - SLUT! - how dare he cheat on the pussy posse... but then I realized this wasn't really cheating. This man has literally nothing else to do but sit at various Starbucks's (and can we as a society please think of a better plural for Starbucks?) and gab with other unemployed yet independently wealthy men.
Whenever I mention this independently wealthy syndrome to my mother, Sim Sim Sima, who then reminds me that I am not of independently wealthy means and that I better get a job. I hear Starbucks is hiring...