If I Won the Lottery
DISCLAIMER: I KNOW BILLIONS OF OTHER PEOPLE HAVE MUCH LESS THAN I DO.
But can anyone say that they haven't thought about it? Winning the lottery? Because I have. I don't play, of course, which reminds me of that joke:
I'm very happy in my life. I have most everything that I want. I don't want to buy a whole bunch of crap. I don't want a bigger house, or a certain kind of car. I don't want jewels or fancy furs, I just want a few little things. Like:
- New teeth. Two of my adult teeth didn't come in when I was little, so they removed them and gave me braces and retainers. A million years later, I'm losing the jaw bone underneath them, so I need to get implants. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IMPLANTS COST NOWADAYS? Bajillions. And dental insurers, God bless them, won't pay for anything because they could give a flying fuck. I don't want to have to choose between giving O a good childhood and losing the entire scaffolding of my face.
- To see my entire family once in a while. My parents and Courtney's brood live in Michigan. The Yates Christmas party is in Michigan. The Cook family Thanksgiving is in Michigan. To think that many relatives still haven't met Ollie, or haven't seen him in two years...ack. That sucks. Just once in a while, is all I'm asking. Not, like, every day or something devilish like that.
- A 4-year college tuition for Ollie. Preferably one to a college that's close enough where we can afford for him to visit when he wants to see his Mama, but not too close where I'm doing his laundry every weekend and watching his newest goth girlfriend slum around on my couch drinking all my vodka.
- Enough to donate a good chunk to the Ronald McDonald House, Alzheimer's Association and the International AIDS Vaccine Initiative...as well as get fresh water, food, and medical supplies wherever they're needed. And to save the dophins and bees and Gulf Coast. And to get all orphans to wanted families and warm homes. And to buy school supplies for all the kids and teachers.
Okay, so basically the first thing I'd do is save the world.
But maybe I'll get a financial planner first.
Then I'm going to send our entire family on vacations to Hawaii and Europe. We haven't been to Hawaii and some of us haven't been to Europe. And to Disneyworld. Or Disneyland. Whichever has the Harry Potter World. Wait - even better, I'll BUY houses in Hawaii and Europe so that we can rent it out to vacationers when we're not there so we can continue to make money. WAIT! Who cares about making money? We'll have enough to last lifetimes, so instead, those houses will be given to people who need them. We'll just use hotel rooms. Check.
Wait, first I'd pay off all our bills and make it so we pay in cash for the rest of our lives so we don't have any money trails. I don't want anything coming back to bite me. Then I'd take us all on vacations.
No, actually, after saving the world and paying off all of our bills, I'll make sure to put money away for all the kids so that they go to the best colleges, ace their lives, and never touch serious drugs, jail bars or Vegas. Then we'd go on holiday.
I'd make sure that we would all go for annual full body scans at Mayo, our teeth would be perfect, our bodies would no longer be cancer scarred or cancer feared and we'd only eat the Mediterranean diet except on national holidays and birthdays.
Because our bodies would be perfect, we'd run marathons in special locations and travel the world two times over because once would not be enough and three would be too many. You know, like martinis and nipples.
Dad and I would get our pilot licenses and swap jets. We'd travel to each other's houses to play Cranium and they'd put Ollie to bed when I'm about to tear out my hair.
Every time we go through a drive-thru, we will pay for the people behind us.
We'd get presents for all our friends' marriages, new babies, birthdays, new jobs, any celebration, really, before-hand so that we can send them all on time.
We'll all finally figure out what we want to do in life, and we wouldn't be billionaire dead-beats. Dad would sell the company and live off the land. Mom would start a bakery that would turn into so much work that she'll hire some famous baker, like the Duff guy (he's from Michigan, isn't he - so he'll want to come back to his roots) to run it. They'll sell items that kitchen gadget inventors ask them to sell online, which means Mom will never have to troll the late night HSN sites again. Jay will continue to work at the station because it's his dream job, but he'd get an earlier shift so he could be with his family at night. Jess would only work part-time and would never have to travel again unless she really wanted to. Brian would doctor on because he's already saving the world one hand at a time. Courtney would realize the Earth Mother in herself, train to be a doula and watch over birthing mamas. I'd help Doug open a clinic and he'd help me open a theatre and rehearsal space which also would have a British pub onsite. Through it all, our children will be clean, well-loved and sweet and would know the worth of a dollar. And we'd get to go on dates with our husbands every once in a while and get manis and pedis too, every once in a while, because we'd remember that we are worth some extra TLC.
People magazine would name us the family to watch, and even though the American public likes to find fault, our reputations would never tarnish. We would also decline interviews or spokesperson requests because we wouldn't feel the need to be in the spotlight.
And through it all, we'd continue to attend church each Sunday, continue to do good works in the name of the Lord and all get into Heaven without any problems because the eye of the needle WILL be big enough for this camel to go through and all of these things won't surprise God in our case.
SIGH.
I got a little carried away.
Maybe we'll never win the lottery.
But wouldn't it be nice?...
But can anyone say that they haven't thought about it? Winning the lottery? Because I have. I don't play, of course, which reminds me of that joke:
A man who is very much in debt goes to church and prays to win the lottery. The next week he comes back to church without winning the lottery and prays again to win. The next week, having not won, he returns to the church to beg again for God to let him win the lottery. The skies open up and God says, "Son, you gotta buy a ticket."But I can still imagine, can't I? What's the harm? The harm is, my friends, that this sort of day dreaming, for me, means that twenty minutes later, I've convinced myself that I have won the lottery and I'm itching to get home and spend / donate / put it towards something. And then the harsh reality hits me right in the middle of my forehead. Wait - I'm not planning a vacation to the South of France? DANGIT!
I'm very happy in my life. I have most everything that I want. I don't want to buy a whole bunch of crap. I don't want a bigger house, or a certain kind of car. I don't want jewels or fancy furs, I just want a few little things. Like:
- New teeth. Two of my adult teeth didn't come in when I was little, so they removed them and gave me braces and retainers. A million years later, I'm losing the jaw bone underneath them, so I need to get implants. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IMPLANTS COST NOWADAYS? Bajillions. And dental insurers, God bless them, won't pay for anything because they could give a flying fuck. I don't want to have to choose between giving O a good childhood and losing the entire scaffolding of my face.
- To see my entire family once in a while. My parents and Courtney's brood live in Michigan. The Yates Christmas party is in Michigan. The Cook family Thanksgiving is in Michigan. To think that many relatives still haven't met Ollie, or haven't seen him in two years...ack. That sucks. Just once in a while, is all I'm asking. Not, like, every day or something devilish like that.
- A 4-year college tuition for Ollie. Preferably one to a college that's close enough where we can afford for him to visit when he wants to see his Mama, but not too close where I'm doing his laundry every weekend and watching his newest goth girlfriend slum around on my couch drinking all my vodka.
- Enough to donate a good chunk to the Ronald McDonald House, Alzheimer's Association and the International AIDS Vaccine Initiative...as well as get fresh water, food, and medical supplies wherever they're needed. And to save the dophins and bees and Gulf Coast. And to get all orphans to wanted families and warm homes. And to buy school supplies for all the kids and teachers.
Okay, so basically the first thing I'd do is save the world.
But maybe I'll get a financial planner first.
Then I'm going to send our entire family on vacations to Hawaii and Europe. We haven't been to Hawaii and some of us haven't been to Europe. And to Disneyworld. Or Disneyland. Whichever has the Harry Potter World. Wait - even better, I'll BUY houses in Hawaii and Europe so that we can rent it out to vacationers when we're not there so we can continue to make money. WAIT! Who cares about making money? We'll have enough to last lifetimes, so instead, those houses will be given to people who need them. We'll just use hotel rooms. Check.
Wait, first I'd pay off all our bills and make it so we pay in cash for the rest of our lives so we don't have any money trails. I don't want anything coming back to bite me. Then I'd take us all on vacations.
No, actually, after saving the world and paying off all of our bills, I'll make sure to put money away for all the kids so that they go to the best colleges, ace their lives, and never touch serious drugs, jail bars or Vegas. Then we'd go on holiday.
I'd make sure that we would all go for annual full body scans at Mayo, our teeth would be perfect, our bodies would no longer be cancer scarred or cancer feared and we'd only eat the Mediterranean diet except on national holidays and birthdays.
Because our bodies would be perfect, we'd run marathons in special locations and travel the world two times over because once would not be enough and three would be too many. You know, like martinis and nipples.
Dad and I would get our pilot licenses and swap jets. We'd travel to each other's houses to play Cranium and they'd put Ollie to bed when I'm about to tear out my hair.
Every time we go through a drive-thru, we will pay for the people behind us.
We'd get presents for all our friends' marriages, new babies, birthdays, new jobs, any celebration, really, before-hand so that we can send them all on time.
We'll all finally figure out what we want to do in life, and we wouldn't be billionaire dead-beats. Dad would sell the company and live off the land. Mom would start a bakery that would turn into so much work that she'll hire some famous baker, like the Duff guy (he's from Michigan, isn't he - so he'll want to come back to his roots) to run it. They'll sell items that kitchen gadget inventors ask them to sell online, which means Mom will never have to troll the late night HSN sites again. Jay will continue to work at the station because it's his dream job, but he'd get an earlier shift so he could be with his family at night. Jess would only work part-time and would never have to travel again unless she really wanted to. Brian would doctor on because he's already saving the world one hand at a time. Courtney would realize the Earth Mother in herself, train to be a doula and watch over birthing mamas. I'd help Doug open a clinic and he'd help me open a theatre and rehearsal space which also would have a British pub onsite. Through it all, our children will be clean, well-loved and sweet and would know the worth of a dollar. And we'd get to go on dates with our husbands every once in a while and get manis and pedis too, every once in a while, because we'd remember that we are worth some extra TLC.
People magazine would name us the family to watch, and even though the American public likes to find fault, our reputations would never tarnish. We would also decline interviews or spokesperson requests because we wouldn't feel the need to be in the spotlight.
And through it all, we'd continue to attend church each Sunday, continue to do good works in the name of the Lord and all get into Heaven without any problems because the eye of the needle WILL be big enough for this camel to go through and all of these things won't surprise God in our case.
SIGH.
I got a little carried away.
Maybe we'll never win the lottery.
But wouldn't it be nice?...
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