You're 13 months out of college, and life isn't exactly what you'd imagined it would be. The launch of your social networking site, FriendFrenzy, stalled after the one computer science major you know refused to accept Farmville coins as payment. Creative writing aspirations flickered out when your submissions to Snarker.com were first rejected, then posted, but only so anonymous commenters could ironically commend you for your talentless efforts. And your Hollywood dreams evaporated when you realized your parents don't have any connections in LA (even though your dad's old boss drew up some articles of incorporation for the 1987 opening of Howie Mandel's Red Hook, New Jersey Jheri Curl Consortium).
Now, you're staring down the barrel of a gun. But it's not a real gun. It's the heap of your mom's furniture catalogs your dad just asked you to get from the mailbox. That's your job now: getting the mail. It has been ever since you moved back home.