Mise-en-scene: Let's Talk About It

First of all, I'd like to note that I was very impressed about a month or two ago (I'm maybe not so much now) at the sign outside of Taco Bell on Guadalupe which read "Need a Job? Let's Taco Bout It!"
I got a serious kick out of that one, and was suddenly filled with pride for my country's attempt at recreating Mexican food in bulk across a nation that (in majority) doesn't even know what they're eating half of the time anyway. At least they try to be clever.
And yet, I think it might just be that one, lonely location. Maybe there's a blossoming stand-up act working there part time until they can finally afford that unicycle they need for the pun in their third act. And that sign is their cry for help. Or for creative freedom to rise above the mindless stupor brought on by having to repeatedly try and sell people an extra choco-taco for half the price of the first one they already didn't want.
Getting back to mise-en-scene, I feel like I should probably be lying on my stomach with my laptop on my bed while fervently composing my blog post, if this were a proper sort of teenage girl drama on the WB. Channel 54, baby.
But seriously, I don't think I'd mind selling my life, or the parts of it that I could juice up enough to make digestible for TV's protein enhanced audiences. If it came down to it, I think I would definitely use everything I might have cared about in my life to fuel a wrenching, passionate memoir revealing at last the untold story of a middle class white girl growing up in America.
Everyone would see it.
I personally believe that you can retain your soul but also sell it. Perhaps the more appropriate word would be to lease it. Or sublet it.
Yes. Soul for sublet. One bedroom, one bath. Spacious living room and kitchen. Stone cold floors. Asking price is a flight to New York and three months of promotional tours.
I apologize for not addressing the topic of mise-en-scene in its full glory, the error is noted and will be resolved at a later date.