Eva Jaber ’28 (she/her) is a prospective English or international relations major. She is a member of the Cleftomaniacs, an a cappella group, an ESL tutor and hopes to encourage peace-minded advocacy on campus. Contact her at ehjaber@wm.edu.
The views expressed in the article are the author’s own.
What’s nine plus 10?! Twenty-one. My column is officially older than I am. She can drink wine in the United States. She can buy a house in Mississippi. She can adopt a child. I wonder how many more issues I have left to write before my column becomes a living, breathing entity of its own. It can already do stuff that I can’t do. It won’t be long before it starts to exercise that right autonomously. I think what I’m doing is creating the opposite of artificial intelligence. I have been so organically generative that my brain child has grown its own consciousness. I have conceived a sentient being all by myself.
In “Jekyll and Hyde” and “Frankenstein,” the birth of a motherless child is seen as a divine injustice. Lucky for us, the name “Eva” essentially translates to “giver of life.” I am a mother. My mother, a grandmother. My grandmothers, great-grandmothers. And so on. After a summer’s rest, I will be back to raising this child. Will she continue to grow while I’m gone? When we get back after this summer, will my column just write itself? I guess we’ll have to wait and see.
Alright. I might as well write this thing while I still can. The question of the week is as follows:
“I currently have approximately 48 mosquito bites. What do I do?”
You know how humans are allegedly made up of 60% water? My makeup is different. I’m 60% DEET. You know, that ingredient in bug repellent? If I were a boy, my mom would have named me N,N-diethyl-meta-toluamide. When I was in Vietnam last summer, my friend Lisa introduced me to Soffell and Remos, which are these bug sprays and bug creams that I swear were heaven sent. In two months, I only got THREE bug bites. Did I have chemical burns from the sheer quantity of bug repellent on my skin? Unimportant. When I have kids, I’m naming the first one Soffell and the second one Remos. But this dear reader isn’t asking how to prevent bug bites. They want to know how to deal with the fallout of a rendezvous with a mosquito. I gotchu.
Earlier today, someone asked me if I was familiar with the show “Shark Tank.” They didn’t know who they were dealing with. It got me thinking about how many mosquito-related products have gone on “Shark Tank” over the years. From a gadget that suctions out the irritant from mosquito bites to bat houses for natural mosquito control, it seems the investment show has covered all the mosquito-related ground in the entrepreneurship space. But they missed one thing: the golden solution to dealing with mosquito bites. What if the money to be made here isn’t from relieving the irritation from bug bites, but instead embracing it? As summer quickly approaches, it’s time to reckon with the sad truth that Soffell and Remos aren’t available in big-box retail stores in the United States At some point this summer, you’re going to get a mosquito bite. You might even get like, I dunno, 48. When you do, you have to turn your misery into money. Capitalize off of the pain. Below, I’ve detailed a step-by-step business plan to turn the irritation into art:
- First, you have to attract as many mosquitoes as possible. There are a lot of ways to do this. Mosquitoes tend to like people with Type O blood. Find out all of your friends’ blood types and ditch everyone who’s Type O. They’re going to attract all the mosquitoes instead, and you can’t have that happening. Mosquitoes also don’t really like Type A blood, so try to surround yourself mostly with people who fit that profile. Once you’re primed to be the most attractive candidate for mosquitoes in your circle of friends, boost your chances of getting bitten by eating as many bananas as possible, covering yourself in lactic acid (moisturizer works fine) and camping out near standing water. It’ll all make sense in a second.
- Now, you know how people are obsessed with animals who make their own art, like dogs and elephants who paint or cats who scratch clay on the pottery wheel? Why are mosquitoes any different? Once you’re covered in mosquito bites, itch them a bit to get them all red and bumpy. Then connect the dots using a tattoo gun. People thought the only constellations on our planet were in space, but we can make our own on our skin. We can turn blemishes into beauty.
- It’s time to turn this art into income. Did you know that only female mosquitoes bite people? You got tattoo patterns made entirely by women! You’ve got a female-owned small business on your hands. The internet says that about 25% of tattoo artists are women. How many of those female tattoo artists are insects? None. You’re about to disrupt an entire industry.
- Okay, so you’ve got the concept art. You’re incredibly itchy and uncomfortable, but that doesn’t matter. No pain, no gain. Now, the business plan commences. People are always more inclined to buy something on impulse if it’s a limited-edition item. Even if you can crank out 50 tattoos a week, you should limit supply to increase demand. We’re talking one client a year. Sell that one tattoo for an exorbitant amount of money. You’ll get the biggest bang for your buck that way.
- The only challenge here is finding someone willing to pay that much money for the tattoo. You have to generate hype to increase interest. The most important things are a good name and getting actors on a payroll to pretend that they like and want your product. The business name should be something witty and edgy, like “Sucker Punch Designs” or “Itch Slap Ink.” Sidebar, but wouldn’t “Ink Inc.” also make a great name for a tattoo company? Okay, never mind, I looked it up, and that’s been done already. Back to business. Remember those friends with Type A blood who you surrounded yourself with to become a mosquito magnet? They owe you one for protecting them from blood-borne illness. Guilt them into being your brand ambassadors.
After a couple years of this gambit, you should be one of the most desired and least accessible performance artists/inked-up geniuses in the world. If you’ve got a summer internship lined up, quit. This is a much better idea. Thank me later.
I’ll see you after this summer. If my writer’s voice has completely changed and it seems like this column is being written by an autonomous, supernaturally-conceived creature, we’ll all have to join forces to save humanity from the monster my ambition and ingenuity have created. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there! HAGS!
