For a third grade class project, our teacher gave each of us a small white undershirt, some fabric markers, and an ambitious task - draw what you want to be when you grow up . Because at eight years old, you're supposed to know this kind of thing. I was less excited about the project than I was about the fact I get to draw on a shirt. This went against just about everything my mother would get upset about, trying to get ink and marker stains out of my sister's clothes and mine while doing laundry. I arrived home that afternoon, closed the bedroom door like I usually did, and got right to work. Full disclosure here - I cannot draw worth crap. This holds true both now and when I was a a kid. So needless to say this shirt design was going to be pretty pathetic. And as an added bonus, I had to draw on fabric. Not exactly an easy task, especially for a third-grade kid. My mother suggested I slide a piece of cardboard inside the shirt, so the marker wouldn't bleed th...