Saturday, January 9, 2016

selling dreams: $6

a.k.a. the poor people tax
a.k.a. Powerball lottery

I got suckered into buying group lottery tickets yesterday.  Normally, I don't succumb that easily to peer pressure.  However, there were several contributing factors.  First and foremost, I had a migraine.  Meaning, it was easier (and therefore quicker to get to my meds and bed) to go along with buying into the Powerball pool than to abstain and say why.  Second, I felt like a pretentious douchebag talking about odds, probabilities, shark attacks, and lightning strikes.  (Why do people always use shark attacks and lightning strikes when explaining long odds?)  Third, I hate crushing other people's dreams.  And finally, it was admittedly a little fun to join in the hype and dream for a mere $6 admission price.  Plus, wouldn't I feel like even more of a jackass if they all won without me? 

Everyone was very excited, and the group texts were flying back and forth about what numbers we got and which locations had the best chance.  The part I loved was the generosity it called forth.  People offering help to others and charity groups -- mostly animal welfare because people suck.  And that's why they're my friends.

So come with me today and dream a little dream of millions of dollars.  Let's not think of the financial snafus and intricacies that come with vast amounts of money pouring too quickly into a group of casual friends.  Instead, think of financial independence and all the stone-crab claws I can eat.  Everyone's first reaction is to picture their boss' face when they say "fuck you, I quit."  However, I like my manager.  A lot.  I'd still quit, don't get me wrong.  :P  But I wouldn't preface it with "fuck you."

What's the first thing I'd do?  Hire a chauffeur?  A chef?  A massage therapist?  Buy my own island?  Timeshare in a jet?  I don't think I'd have enough money to buy and maintain my own jet.  Damn it, Wendy, stop being so practical.  It's dream time!

I think after personal chef and massage therapist, I'd like a tailor.  And cobbler (not the dessert).  I'm tired of the challenges of finding clothes to fit my skinny/fat body.  And skinny feet.  And maybe a personal hair stylist.  And personal trainer.  And now I'm having anxiety over having to deal with so many people.  Which is maybe why I'm not rich or why I suck at dreaming of riches.

Hmm, maybe my ultimate dream would be to have one trustworthy (there's the catch) person to handle EVERYONE for me.  Which is starting to sound an awful lot like my ultimate partner.  But money can't buy me love or some such.  And this is why I rarely play lottery.  Well that, and the abysmal odds.

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