#43 When You Grow Up Poor…

… you dream about what you would do if you won the lottery. The daydream carries real weight too. You have to avoid thinking about it because if you start you’ll find yourself, hours later, walking in a strange neighborhood in your fleece Spongebob pajama pants, your gas station Big Gulp Slushie completely empty, wondering how you got there. You tell yourself that if you won the lottery you’d be smart with the money. You’d buy a house. You’d pay your parents mortgage (lets be honest, mortgages) off. You’d send your siblings to school (lets be honest, they wouldn’t go). You’d adopt a butt ton of Mongolian babies. You’d give money to homeless people. Well you’d buy food for homeless people because those idiots would use your money for drugs. You’d start a business. No wait, you’d just put the money in the bank and live off the interest. 1% interest on half a billion dollars is what, like… a hundred million dollars a year most likely. Probably. You’d buy a smallllll house. You don’t need a big house.Thats dumb. Like 3 bedrooms. Well like 4 bedrooms. Well like 8 bedrooms because of the Mongolian babies. And like..a garage. Well like a two car garage. Or like an eight car garage. You’d surprise classrooms at local schools with truck loads of new ipads. You’d pay for EVERYONE to get a new kidney. You’d pay for EVERYONE when you went out to eat. And you would order guac and sour cream EVERYTIME. You’d travel the world. Not not the crappy world, the good stuff. Mongolia for the babies. Paris. Why don’t rich people do these things? Riches are wasted on the wrong people! Why am I not rich. God should be making me rich instead of evil old white men. Half a million dollars a year to be the CEO of a company that is going bankrupt? What the hell? God would make me rich if he could and he would not be sorry. If he wills it, I will win the lottery. Its meant to be. God is going to make me rich. God is good and I will win the lottery. I need to be rich. I have to help the world. Its not about me. Its about the Mongolian babies. And the guac. I will win the lottery one day, I just know it. Where’d my slushie go and where the hell am I?

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