Most afternoons, Kevin Yaeger could be found nursing a hangover from the night before with a glass of cinnamon schnapps, his favorite drink. He'd be wearing only his boxer shorts, unashamed of the unfurled rolls of flesh that liposuction had been unable to tame. Surrounded by piles of dirty laundry, scattered papers, condom boxes, and half-empty bottles of lube and beer, Yaeger would sprawl belly-down on his queen-size bed, chatting up venture capitalists on his cell phone. "This is gonna be big -- really big," he'd say. "I'll have my secretary... More >>>