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Archive for the ‘Business & Etsy’ Category

Season’s Beatings

Posted by crowbiz on December 10, 2009

Having a life is a serious impediment to operating a blog.  This implies a lot of things, but that’s not what today is about….

All  three of my fans have recently wondered about my absence here, but I’ve been able to console them face-to-face and make a loose pledge to step it up.  Anyway, January is coming with its teeny, precious baby-Jesus-like bundle of time, so there’s a chance I may put finger to keyboard more in 2010.

Scene of the crime - before the crime.


Online business is booming, so I’ve been consumed with keeping up.  Never underestimate people’s desire for small things to stuff a stocking.  Naturally, I’m happy about all this, if tired.  Occasionally, I get annoyed at the buyer who drops a little note like “Ship ASAP!  Need soon!” , as if I’m one of the English-as-a-third-language night-shift operators standing by in the factory order processing room.  Nothing I can’t shrug off, but just once I’d like to reply to a deadbeat buyer, “Pay ASAP!  Need money!”

Oh, and there’s that “job” I have, that commitment on M-W-F to edify the masses – or a couple hundred, anyway – at Buffalo State College.   The semester has been pretty typical, though the two courses I’m handling tend to be the most time-sucking and morale-bashing for completely different reasons.

My Intro Psych students have just one final exam to do, after which I tally the grades and wipe my hands.  In a fit of holiday benevolence (or idiocy), I decided to let all 150 of them bring their own self-designed “cheat sheets” on one 8 1/2″ x 11″ piece of paper (front and back, typed or handwritten, their choice).  The act was sort of like throwing your hands in the air on the downhill of a careening roller coaster ride.   It’s no skin off me, and as a cognitive psychologist, I designed this as a ploy to get them to (boing!) review, organize, sort and study the material, whereas they just think I’ve lost it and that they’re getting away with something big.  My main interest  is in seeing students’ creativity with the cheat sheet and in finding out what kind of loopholes they concoct.  The ones smart enough to use 6 point type will probably do just fine and the ones using their own chunky handwriting with the “i”s dotted with hearts….well, people will get what they deserve.

On the other end of the spectrum is my Experimental Research Methods class, a grueling, deep, theoretical journey into nerdism unmatched by most college courses.  Sixteen students work their variable-sized asses off in a never-ending barrage of written labs, exercises and other tortuous activities designed to make fledgling scientists out of them.  I’ve yet to finish grading their final research proposal projects, and currently they are slogging through their oral presentations in class while I get a chance to sit in the back.  Getting many of them to understand factorial designs and how to interpret them is like dragging a dead ox uphill through a privet hedge, but I’d say about 75% of them ultimately qualify as “getting it.”  This has involved enormous amounts of hand-holding over the past several weeks, and my hands are now officially off-limits.  A few, surely, hoped for the following form of counsel:

“Here, let me design this experiment for you, then I’ll write up a 12 or 14 page paper.  Then I’ll give it to you; you rearrange a few words, print it while I look the other way, then hand it back to me, and we’ll call it a semester, huh?”

The holiday handmade show circuit was drastically reduced for me this year, owing to the teaching schedule.  One shining moment remains, that being this weekend’s Last Minute Panic Holiday Marketplace at the WNY Book Arts Center, where I will give it whatever I’ve got and enjoy chatting it up with lots of folks.  Last year was a good time, so I’m hoping this weekend will give me the lift I need to power through the rest of the season – and year – with head up.

Well, that’s a snapshot in the life of Crow, which may be of great interest to those of you who live under a rock.  Others wishing for more intrigue will have to wait until I start hitting the Tom & Jerry bowl during the holiday party rounds.

Posted in Business & Etsy, Life In the Mod Podge Lane | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Twittering Your Business Away

Posted by crowbiz on June 30, 2009


Love it, hate it, # it

Love it, hate it, # it

Ah, social networking!  Say those few syllables over and over…. yes, it does take on the timbre of “anal itchiness,” “festering pimple,” and “supreme nausea.”  I would like to include “gaseous blowhard,” but it would require the British pronunciation “gas-ee-uss” rather than the clunky American version, “gash-uss.”


Do you wish you had a nickel for every forum poster who oozes about how great Twitter has been for their business?  How they find it so fun to spam, er I mean, post their items to their 11,000 followers and then sit back and watch the love roll in?  What is it about the magic number 11,000, by the way?  Did I miss the meeting where they handed out the secret code behind the pyramid that night?  And did you notice that after someone proclaims Twitter as crucial to their success, you check their Etsy shop and see they’ve made 7 sales in 2 years?  Then the chipper seller lets drop, “Well, I can’t be sure how many sales came directly from Twitter, but I know it’s helped!”

Yeah, it’s helped immensely – in sucking your time and your mind.

My feelings about the big twit are ambivalent.  I have some loose connections, do the occasional pimp, and mostly pick up links to hilarious sites that would take me too long to find on my own.  So right there, Twitter saves me time on my time-wasting, which I can now do in a much more targeted and efficient fashion.  Despite having over 300 followers, which is so low that I’m not even at the uncool kids’ lunch table, I’m still talking mostly to myself on Twitter.  When I eventually tweet the link to this very post, I’ll be able to watch the blog stats rocket upward by one.

There are several creepy followers who seem to be Stepford Twits, manufactured somewhere in that same factory that makes people to give testimonials for weight loss ads and mysterious work-from-home pitches.  They have what seem to be regular, homespun avatars, what with their undoctored faces, or pets, or children.  Yet their tweets seem to be a preprogrammed regurgitation of How To Get (fill in the number) Followers in (fill in the time frame).”  No other content, really.  Get followers so you can tell others how to get followers so they can say they got followers that will want to know how to get followers.  What does Jane Doe need with 11,000 followers?  

Once I boldly asked what the heck I needed with 10,000 followers (I was being conservative), and got an immediate reply from a nonfollower/nonfollowee with a curt, “I would think that would be obvious!”   It wasn’t to me.  It was one of the few, and certainly the quickest reply I ever received.  And the guy seemed offended.  It wasn’t as if I’d said, “Who needs liquids to live?” or “Oxygen is so overrated” or “Too bad you don’t know your real dad.”  Yet this stranger instantly heard my tweet – perhaps it registered on his Twitter Dissent Meter – and jumped in to scold.  Kind of like Big Brother and the Wizard of Oz combined, only without the rat cage or technicolor.

Take aaaall that time you’ve spent on Twitter.  Subtract out any real humanesque interaction – be honest now.  I’ll let you keep that, because sometimes it is fun to check someone’s link to a picture of the sleeping guy next to him on the flight (thanks, some funny guy who follows me).  Now how much time do you spend talking to the great void?   When you post your latest doohickey, do you rush back to check the views on Etsy?  Then back to Twitter… then back to Etsy… then…oh, right, leave a @reply to someone, because that will seem human of you, and there’s a 25% chance that the person you reply to might, in some future moment, click on a link that you’ve posted.  Which you will dutifully check by rushing back to Etsy.  Not that you’d be able to document this in any meaningful way, but you’d give yourself the idea that Twitter “definitely helps.”  

Is this your marketing, promotion and sales strategy?  No really, tell me it isn’t.  Visually, I picture it like this:  you run outside and leave your business card on the sidewalk, or maybe a picture of what you’re hawking with contact info.  Some people walk by, maybe even 11,000 people.  Maybe someone picks it up, maybe not.  After a few minutes, you dash back outside to check if anyone picked up the card.  If so, you put another one on the sidewalk.  If not, you go back and wait.  Repeat process indefinitely, or until you realize you sure need a shower or a meal or to leave for your real job.  

My heretical suggestion is that you get your bum off Twitter now and then. Next, take that time and pour, shovel and cram it into something that might be called an activity.  Find better outlets.  You may even have to – god forbid! – spend a few bucks advertising to a qualified, target market.  Sure, go ahead and send the pictures of your fingers photoshopped to look like sausages (I laughed till I cried) – enjoy it for what it is and don’t count on it bringing in the sales.

Yeah, yeah, there are those who will vehemently disagree with me and insist that their Etsy business booms because of Twitter.  You are free to tell me I don’t know what the bedazzzler I’m talking about, and I don’t mind, because I know your secret; you come from that different midwestern factory where they make the rare bird who is a success right out of the starting block and don’t even realize it.  I think there are three of you.  Maybe you interpret my crabbiness as jealousy, but I’d redirect you to frustration instead.  Anyone who reads my blog knows the idea of constraining myself to 140 characters is like something right out of Dante’s Inferno.

To wrap up, self-interest dictates that I should drop my info here.  If you have a soft spot for the unflappable, uncool kid on the fringe of the cafeteria, I’ll be there with my flabby sandwich:

But I’m only one voice in 11,000.

Posted in Business & Etsy | Tagged: , , , , , , | 15 Comments »

What Do You Call a Call-Out Outer?

Posted by crowbiz on June 9, 2009


You wish

You wish

As a rule, I avoid participating in the spit-spat stuff of the Etsy Forums, as long as you don’t count intermittent comical asides I insert to break up the longer paragraphs of peoples’ vitriol.  Much as I hate confrontation, I’m not above cheap voyueristic enjoyment of it, plus, nothing riles a flamer – or pops their balloon – like the suggestion that other people are having a grand time at their expense.  Requesting “Orville Redenbacher in Thread 3, please!” or dropping in lyrics from smaltzy 70s love songs is more my style, but nevertheless, I do read a lot of the back-and-forth to get of sense of where people think they lie in the Big Crusade.  After a particularly irritating thread I saw recently, I thought I’d post (I had no choice!)


These commonly degenerate into an I-may-be-wrong-but-I’m-righter-than-you smarmfest, and always, someone is wrong.  You can usually tell in the OP’s opening salvo that they are just dying to blow in some perceived wrong-doer, but they need enough agitation to go ahead and give the damning info.  Usually it’s something we can all backtrack easily enough, which is known as… CALLING OUT.  Did you know?  No, the OP did not give a name or serial number, but unless you are six years old and just signed up on Etsy yesterday, you and everyone else will be able to pinpoint the OP’s target du jour. 

Here is a sample of Etsy-rip, and see if you can find the item and seller:   “I’m so mad at this seller who makes an item that copies so bad!  I’m about to loose my mind!!!!!  They are something with frogs, which is that I have been selling my frog items since October of 2008 and not only but my friend’s shop has green magnets that this so unscrupled person is also selling, so both me and my friend are getting ripped off and COPIED.  I will not name names, but convo me if you want to know!!!”

(Regular readers, do not worry that I hit my head.  I was writing in the Etsy colloquial.)  

Did you locate the offending item?  In my shop?  In about four seconds?  Did I do a good job calling myself out without mentioning myself?  Newbies make this mistake often, but the shocking thing is that I’ve seen buckets of threads like this by what look like seasoned Etsians.  

The worst, however, are the posters who go around in alternating modes of justice and self-defense, digging the purported “offender” and whirling right around to clamp their hands over their own asses before eventually (cartoon sproingggg!), calling out another Etsian by name.  As a visual person, what I immediately see is a cornered rat snapping, retreating, lunging, trying to adjust its halo, and playing dead all in one pitiful episode.  The named-name call-out is almost invariably preceded or followed by a disclaimer of the “I didn’t want to have to do this, but..”  or “since you made me…” type, which, if the world were more perfect, would be paired with a 220-volt shock to the genitals.  Also eligible for corporal punishment should be, “I know I’m calling out, but…”  (And I’d like to trace the evolution of the word “but” as a useful conjunction to a magic word that turns a wrong into a perceived right – that’s “right” in both senses of the word.  “I know I shouldn’t call you ugly, but it’s just that you have that really bad skin and hair.  I’m just saying.”)

Get this:  When you call out, do not imagine that you are the renegade star of “The Legend of Billie Jean” – possibly one of the worst movies ever created (thank you again, Lazypedia).  It should be required viewing for every person who intends to post in a forum.  If you haven’t the the time or the stomach for a mid-80s mind-bendingly bad teen flick (with Christian Slater, no less), here is the nutshell.  Teen gal and younger teen bro are victimized by some bad characters (theft, attempted rape, etc) and the law, and subsequently have to break a lot of rules to enoxerate themselves and expose the bad guys.  But they are innocent, man, ’cause they had no choice!  It was the only way!  By trying to bust an Etsy offender in the forums this way, you are not doing a righteous, if unpleasant thing.  You’re doing a wrong thing, since you are not Billie Jean, this is not MTV, Etsy administration is not a byzantine system of crooked cops, and that seller with the mistagged vintage item for $3.00 did not try to rape you behind the scooter shop.

Get your sorry ass back to your workspace and get busy on your own concerns.  You might make a killing by selling reclaimed wood, handcarved shit-stirrers.

By the way, I really like Etsy Call-Out.  Call me crazy, call me complex, just don’t call me out.

Posted in Business & Etsy | Tagged: , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Ma Barker Ain’t Got Nothin’ On Me

Posted by crowbiz on June 1, 2009

Recently, my first-grader was composing sentences for his weekly spelling words, a task he normally completes on his own or with minimal assistance.  One of his words was “pay.”   He jolted me to attention when he shouted out, “Mom, I know one:  ‘Pay up, sucka!'”

After complimenting his quick thinking, I gently suggested he generate a different sentence, one that would be less likely to evoke visions of our household as Little Gangland on the Prairie.  He knew he was being funny, but only a bit.  Mainly, he was echoing similar statements I make when poring over the orders and accounts, sending out the polite but clear emails and reminders about “following through.”  Given my wordy nature, I get more wrapped up in it than I intend, then become exasperated and just blurt something like his sentence above.  At first I felt a wave of embarrassment, like when you hear your toddler saying “How many times have I told you…?” to his stuffed animals.  Then, while steering him toward a more appropriate homework sentence, the shame was replaced with a kind of dark pride that my kid was on my side and could potentially be my mouthpiece.


Ma sent us

Ma sent us

Would they go to bat for me?  Would they go to the mat for me?  Would they (cliched sports analogy) if I gave the word?  Maybe I could make use of them one day, not too far off, and send them to do my dirty work.  Well, nothing I do is particularly “dirty,” but I bet they’d love to be charged with some of my business dealings, especially ones that could require weapons.  “Boys!”  I’d holler through teeth clenching a stubby cigar, “Git down here.  I got some work for youse!”  There at our dimly lit table, I’d rifle through some manhandled unpaid invoices and shove a few into each kid’s grubby, waiting hand.  “Take care a’ these, how ’bout?”  They nod because they know what that means:  come home with the money and maintain mama’s approval.  She’s too old to do the face time anymore; gotta protect the old broad;  she gave us life, dint she?


Boys loving their mommies is a universal law that makes it good to be queen.  Unless you’re a pretty rotten mother, you’re safe, and I’m sure I haven’t slipped that far yet; it’s a long way to go before your boy-child, whatever his age, rejects you.  If you don’t believe me, refer to Russell Crowe in the film 3:10 to Yuma.  Though bound and seemingly powerless as a captured outlaw, he somehow manages to kill a man who insinuates that his mother’s hygiene and morals are sub-par. “Even bad men love their mamas,” he summarizes.  Unfortunately, their willingness to kill for you does not ensure that they will pick up their wet towels or remember to put their bikes away when told.



Trouble with a capital G & R - "GRouble"?

Trouble with a capital G & R - "GRouble"?

As anyone can clearly see, these boys do not inspire much fear.  Rather than apologetically fork over the dough, anyone confronted by them is more likely to say, “Honey, tie that shoe.”  Ah ha, but that’s the beauty of it – you’d be sadly mistaken, for their powers are great.  They need no weapons, they require no arm strength, they can dispense with threatening statements.  They just need to show up.



SonWon:  SonWon is almost constantly happy.  And chatty.  He’s clever and quick, and would likely talk and charm you out of anything he came for.  It’s worth repeating that he’s chatty, because therein lies your downfall.  While inquiring about your day at work, singing, and trying to recount the plot of all seven Harry Potter novels, he’d be able to pick you clean and depart with one of his shoes missing, leaving both of you smiling.  He’s so confident, that soon after his friendly deception, he’ll come back and ask if you’d like to play a game of chess, and he’ll kindly point out when you’re about to make an unwise move.  Unconcerned about being found out, he’ll probably still have your wallet and important papers stuffed into his pocket with candy wrappers and a few bottle caps.  Chat you up a little more.  Just for being so winsome, you’ll want to give him a little something for the candy store, but when you reach for your wallet, it isn’t there, and neither is he.  Wherever he’s gone to will be a mystery, since SonWon forgets everything at approximately 30-second intervals, and the odds are poor that he can find his way home.  But he’ll be happy, whatever the outcome.

SonToo:  If, by looking at SonToo’s hair, you cannot gain insight into his character, you are not very perceptive.  He does not need many words, and the ones he chooses, while not eloquent, cannot fail to be heard.  This is the “Pay up, sucka!” that you ignore at your peril.  I can still pick him up like he’s a monkey in candy-striped undies, but he has the force of an F5 tornado and the subtlety of 20 fingernails down the chalkboard. Don’t even think you’re going to outlast him – just plan on giving in and making your life 72 hours better.  SonToo will chew rocks, split your ears, and sit out in the rain, but he ain’t going away.  During all this, however, he may ask you to adjust his socks, because he just can’t stand feeling that little thready thing on his third toe, and it could lead to a lot of tears.  A laser beam on fine-tune, he’s a meticulous, relentless machine.  With a lot of tears.  And shouting. At 7, he routinely wins at poker against adult men who are not throwing the game. One of his more cheerful ruses involves quickly snatching the enemy’s dinner plate when he/she is up from the seat (a constant occurrence at our meals), and placing it on the chair.  He zips back to his own place and waits for the victim to return and sit on the pot roast and asparagus.  Casseroles are favored for this ploy.

If these two show up together at your front door, it’s been nice knowing you.


Misunderstood Ma

Misunderstood Ma

My original intent was to portray myself as a modern day Ma Barker as described above.  Turns out, after a cheap online search that I would scald my students over, the myth done got busted good.  Bible of the Lazy, Wikipedia, tells us that Mrs Barker was no more the engineer of a criminal empire than she was a Supreme Court nominee.  It seems she just happened to be the mother of a couple of gun-slinging, society-defying, ham-handed miscreants, and like most mothers, was not eager to turn her babies over to the law, no matter how stupid or wayward they were.  Time, a lack of instant media outlets, the feds, and a public hungry for lurid romanticism turned Ma into the pistol-packing mother of villainy we think of, when really, she probably just did a crappy job raising her sons. 


I can only dream of such a snazzy revisionist misunderstanding, even if I do get shot dead in the end.

Posted in Business & Etsy, Life In the Mod Podge Lane | Tagged: , , , , , | 6 Comments »

The First (and Last) Bank of Etsy

Posted by crowbiz on May 29, 2009


Shake it, baby!

Shake it, baby!

That’s it, I’ve officially declared myself as having “been around.”  Not that around, the other around.  No, I can’t play longer-than-thou on Etsy with any clout, like all those “I remember when there were just the four of us back in 2005…  Oh, remember how great the fall of 2006 was before all those (thinly disguised pejoratives) were signing up every day?”  But having ground out a hard-won 20 months, I’m a veritable geezer in Etsy world.


It’s working OK for me.

Why it may be working or not working for you is an apple to my orange.  Or melon, if you don’t mind.  

There is no “key,” so stop looking for it.  But there are about 1000 keyless entry doors you’ll have to go through, some that lead into little worlds of warm, fuzzy successes, often temporary, and some that open over a precipice down which you will plummet like Wiley Coyote.  Stop obsessing and make decisions.  Quit microanalyzing the frigging Google Analytics and make something.  It might be an object, or a phonecall, or a difficult decision (yeah, that crocheted thingie is bone ugly).  There will be failures.  Try some stuff.  It’s your issue to figure out.  And it does not matter why someone in Texas visited your site 12 times yesterday between 2:00-3:00 am.

I’ve said this many times in forums when I can pull myself away from eavesdropping on catfights or things like the “hair disc” thread:  Etsy is not an ATM.  Yeah, it sounds crabby, like a jaded old-timer who isn’t willing to help a newbie, but friends, that’s the simplest, most helpful thing you might hear all week or all month as you spend hours of your life trolling the forums looking for “the way.”  It’s your business.  Maybe it’s your hobby, in which case, you’re probably not annoying the world with your worries, and I thank you very much.  For many people, it starts as a hobby, then becomes an obsession once a little money trickles in.  Dangerous territory.

If I see one more of those tv or magazine “Great Way to Make Money” plugs that mentions Etsy, along with medical billing, stuffing envelopes and inventing a market-sweeping new gadget, I may or may not audibly groan, but I will shake my head a little like that old timer sitting next to the pickle barrel, and keep on slowly rocking.

Oh, and just a reminder:  did you know it’s actually Etsy’s site, and you are allowed to do business on it?

What Crow needs to do is take some B vitamins, drink some iced tea, and lay off.  Eventually.

Posted in Business & Etsy | Tagged: , , , , , , | 7 Comments »

Lemonade Stand Mistakes for Etsy Sellers

Posted by crowbiz on May 13, 2009

This is a parable about some really bad ways to start your business.  If you can’t uncover the parallels, you might want to compress your head in a sliding glass door for 30 minutes, then come back and try again.  One of my favorite sayings is, “Look within.”  

Growing up, I lived in an odd, remote semi-suburban, semi-rural compound that could be called a neighborhood.  It was a small arc of a “street” containing exactly 18 houses, with another six facing the busy roadway from which our lonely road sprang.  We were bordered by the busy road on one side, and large tracts of woods and farmland on the other three.  We had ditches in front of our houses. The road was not paved, but was made up of an unappealing oil, tar and chipped stone mixture.  Summer fun sometimes involved popping the tar bubbles that swelled up, and since we had no traffic except for the few, not-very-on-the-go residents, a kid could actually sit in the middle of the street doing something as mindless as popping tar bubbles. Every eye from every house would widen and follow any nonresident car that happened along the street.  

Luckily, I had several friends around my age, so childhood life went along almost normally, except for the strange themes that we developed because of our isolation.  We were rather like specimens on the Galapagos Islands, following the general rules of life, but evolving our own bizarre mutations.

Thus is was that we decided to open a stand to sell something.  Something.  I don’t recall what the actual stand was – an appliance box, perhaps, or a piece of hand-me-down fort from neighborhood boys?  Whatever its form, the physical stand was the impetus for opening shop, though we had no plan.  We lacked supplies for lemonade or Kool-Aid .  So after straining our collective brains a bit, we came up with a suitable alternative:  salad dressing.  Into the blender went a load of ingredients, a pinch of this, a 9-year-old’s fistful of that, until we whizzed up what we thought was a perfectly acceptable concoction.  It tasted salty, so that was good, and it was a loud green color.  

Great as a marinade, too!Now, to marketing.  The name we agreed on (by a committee of four) was “Grople.”  Pronounced GROPE-uhl.  Like Snapple, but with Grope instead of Snap.  And way before Snapple was invented.  Say it a few times.  Mmmm.  We kept the Grople in a large plastic container and planned to dispense the customer’s portion into a paper cup, the kind you’d use for, oh, lemonade, say.  We expected them to run right home with it, eager to try it out, so we wouldn’t even bother with a lid.  Or perhaps we thought customers would rush our stand with their naked salads and use the cup to dip the lettuce in.  Our target market consisted of street traffic.  If you’re not sharp, you may want to reread the second paragraph.  It was a sweltering summer day.  All systems were go!

Let’s spare ourselves the grueling details of the grand failure and just skip to the part where we disband later in the day having sold not a drop of Grople.  What happened? we asked.  How could this have bombed so badly?  Were we not shouting loud enough to attract people?  Did we set up the stand too far away from the street?  Were our signs hard to read, or written too small?  Was it the economic climate?  It was a blend of mystery and disappointment for all of us.  Not only did we not make a penny, we had wasted a good summer day sitting there minding the stand, had shouted ourselves hoarse, and had a gallon of spoiled green oil and spices to deal with.

Have you started looking within?

When you’ve grown close to something, it’s hard to see its faults with a clear eye.  Your project, your product, is your baby, just like our Grople was to us.  After a session back at the drawing board we crafted some important changes and vowed we wouldn’t go down in retail flames again.  Several weeks later we reopened another shop with new conviction.  Our sweeping changes?  The salad dressing was now lighter green, and we’d rechristened it Grople II.  If you can’t guess what happened, you probably should have just left your coat on.  The bus will be coming soon.

Sweet mother of invention, we can be thankful there was no public outlet for our distress.  Nowhere to ask, plead and beg for answers about why we weren’t selling.  No one to hear us lament, “OMG, the kids in that subdivision a mile away are copying us!  They’re selling liverwurst in ceramic mugs…that’s food, that’s cups… It’s so unfair!  How come our parents won’t do anything about it?”  No one to ask, “How long did it take to sell your first cup of hot, green salad dressing?”

Don’t be a Grople Wanker.

Posted in Business & Etsy | Tagged: , , , , , , , | 6 Comments »