My Next Job

I've been giving this a lot of thought - well, at least some thought - trying to come up with a new career path for myself. What am I good at, that I like doing, that I could make a living doing? After much consideration, I've hit on the perfect job.
   I'm going to become a beach spoilsport.
   Imagine this, if you will: me with a solid mahogany tan, the kind of dark brown-with-undertones-of-painful-sunburn that makes people cringe. I'm wearing a bright red Speedo thong, the kind of banana hammock European guys like to rock. I have several bright gold chains around my neck, not as many as Mr. T, but too many for a white guy to have on. I'm wearing douchebag sunglasses and I've whitened my teeth so much they glow. And the capper, the pièce de résistance, is my glistening, baby-oiled body.
   Who would want to be around that? Precisely my point. As a beach spoilsport, I would get people to pay me to go away, to take my bright red Speedo and go offend someone else. I could sit in a chaise lounge with a mai tai, I could dance awkwardly to 80's Kraftwerk, anything to make a spectacle of myself and increase the payout to go away.
   The only problem I can forsee is the set-up costs. Gold chains and baby oil ain't cheap, and I'd need to maintain just the proper amount of butt-crack tan line to provide maximum offense when I bend over to adjust my beach towel. Details...