The Downside of Winning $640 Million Dollars in the Lottery
With a possible $640 million dollar (and counting) lottery win on the line, the nation is all abuzz with thoughts of what would I do with all that money?
But as we all know (because it's the mantra of poor kids heard around the world - or at least in the house I grew up in) money can't buy happiness. Sure, some parents can buy their kid a new pair of boots but then they wouldn't grow up with those fond memories of sticking their feet into generic bread wrapper bags in an attempt to keep the water out. How on earth could you even possibly begin to think you could be happy with a brand new pair of sparkling white boots with glints of pink and lined with real fur? You would have missed out on all that fun when Chris Hoover spied your plastic bag slipping out of your boot after recess and called you Bread Bag for the entire rest of the school year!
With massive amounts of money comes great struggle. For instance, you might imagine yourself diving into and swimming around your piles of gold à la Disney Duck Tales style, but let's be honest - gold is a solid. You dive into that and you're bound to get a concussion.
Then there's that pesky task of sitting down to make a list of all the people you're never going to give a freaking dime to. Like the micromanaging fun-sucking team leader with buggity eyeballs that you were forced to be nice to for an entire year and probably thinks you two are friends because she happens to be incapable of maintaining an actual friendship for longer than twenty-seven minutes so is completely oblivious to the fact that every person who spends more than twenty-eight minutes with her wants to stab themselves with a mellon baller. She'll have no problem asking - no, expecting some sort of incredibly large and generous monetary gift, and you'll need to be ready. Oh, gosh, I really wish I could pay off your mortgage, you effing hag, but see --? You're on the list. Sorry... but, well, couldn't you tell I didn't actually like you? I thought the bleeding from my ears when we were forced into the same room together would have provided at least a hint.
And that leads me to I Don't Really Care If You're Related to Big V Or Not - Particularly If You've Ever Come Up To Us And Taken Our Coats When We Walked In And Proceeded To Say In Front Of Everyone, "You Should Really Date (So and So) - I Really Wish You Would At Least Consider It" - And Not Only Could I Hear You Because I Was Standing Right There But Also I Was Pregnant With His Child, then no, you don't get any of my money. You're already on the list.
Which reminds me, if you happen to be one of my family members that thinks you automatically gets hoardes of my winnings just because we swim in the same pool of DNA, think again. If I think you're lazy you won't get a penny. Dude, get up off your rump and get a job. That's what I've been doing since I was 14. And don't tell me there are no jobs, because there are. They're suckity-suck jobs that suck the soul out of you and have sucky pay - but they're jobs. That's what grown-ups do. They get jobs to support themselves and their families. They don't sponge of the government or redunkulously rich relatives. Don't bother trying to convince me otherwise - I once worked as a telemarketer. It doesn't get any suckier than that.
(Free advice: if you think your job sucks, try working the entire day pretending that you're British. Everything is so much grander with an accent, don't you agree? Perhaps you ought to pull your chin up and channel your inner Mary Crawley and make the best of it.) (You read those last two sentences with an accent, didn't you? I knew you would.)
Besides, if you didn't have a relationship with me prior to me winning my millions, what makes you think we'd suddenly have one now? That means Kim, Jocelyn and Ginger: your mortgages are PAID. And all your children are going to college. And we'll be going on vacation. A lot.
So, actually, now that I think about it, really the only downside to me winning $640 million in the lottery would be to those who won't benefit from my newfound wealth. The way I see it, as long as I steer clear from diving head first into bars of precious metal, I'm golden.
But as we all know (because it's the mantra of poor kids heard around the world - or at least in the house I grew up in) money can't buy happiness. Sure, some parents can buy their kid a new pair of boots but then they wouldn't grow up with those fond memories of sticking their feet into generic bread wrapper bags in an attempt to keep the water out. How on earth could you even possibly begin to think you could be happy with a brand new pair of sparkling white boots with glints of pink and lined with real fur? You would have missed out on all that fun when Chris Hoover spied your plastic bag slipping out of your boot after recess and called you Bread Bag for the entire rest of the school year!
With massive amounts of money comes great struggle. For instance, you might imagine yourself diving into and swimming around your piles of gold à la Disney Duck Tales style, but let's be honest - gold is a solid. You dive into that and you're bound to get a concussion.
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| Because of Disney I dreamed of being a duck. True story. |
Then there's that pesky task of sitting down to make a list of all the people you're never going to give a freaking dime to. Like the micromanaging fun-sucking team leader with buggity eyeballs that you were forced to be nice to for an entire year and probably thinks you two are friends because she happens to be incapable of maintaining an actual friendship for longer than twenty-seven minutes so is completely oblivious to the fact that every person who spends more than twenty-eight minutes with her wants to stab themselves with a mellon baller. She'll have no problem asking - no, expecting some sort of incredibly large and generous monetary gift, and you'll need to be ready. Oh, gosh, I really wish I could pay off your mortgage, you effing hag, but see --? You're on the list. Sorry... but, well, couldn't you tell I didn't actually like you? I thought the bleeding from my ears when we were forced into the same room together would have provided at least a hint.
And that leads me to I Don't Really Care If You're Related to Big V Or Not - Particularly If You've Ever Come Up To Us And Taken Our Coats When We Walked In And Proceeded To Say In Front Of Everyone, "You Should Really Date (So and So) - I Really Wish You Would At Least Consider It" - And Not Only Could I Hear You Because I Was Standing Right There But Also I Was Pregnant With His Child, then no, you don't get any of my money. You're already on the list.
Which reminds me, if you happen to be one of my family members that thinks you automatically gets hoardes of my winnings just because we swim in the same pool of DNA, think again. If I think you're lazy you won't get a penny. Dude, get up off your rump and get a job. That's what I've been doing since I was 14. And don't tell me there are no jobs, because there are. They're suckity-suck jobs that suck the soul out of you and have sucky pay - but they're jobs. That's what grown-ups do. They get jobs to support themselves and their families. They don't sponge of the government or redunkulously rich relatives. Don't bother trying to convince me otherwise - I once worked as a telemarketer. It doesn't get any suckier than that.
(Free advice: if you think your job sucks, try working the entire day pretending that you're British. Everything is so much grander with an accent, don't you agree? Perhaps you ought to pull your chin up and channel your inner Mary Crawley and make the best of it.) (You read those last two sentences with an accent, didn't you? I knew you would.)
Besides, if you didn't have a relationship with me prior to me winning my millions, what makes you think we'd suddenly have one now? That means Kim, Jocelyn and Ginger: your mortgages are PAID. And all your children are going to college. And we'll be going on vacation. A lot.
So, actually, now that I think about it, really the only downside to me winning $640 million in the lottery would be to those who won't benefit from my newfound wealth. The way I see it, as long as I steer clear from diving head first into bars of precious metal, I'm golden.
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| six hundred thirty-nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine.... |
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