Only, in this economy, it doesn’t. The Canadians are apologizing to the U.S. for the state of the dollar, and it’s humiliating.
However, I’m too lazy to come up with another topic, which means one very important thing: I, of all people, need enough money to be this lazy; and I may as well take her post and make it my own.
Two things. Sorry. I’ll come in again.
One. Hundred. MILLION. Dollars.
I’d buy a bunch of different cars. The environment can go hang. I’d have a Bugatti Veyron (red), and an SUV of some sort, and maybe some classic cars. Since my neck doesn’t have full range-of-motion, some of y’all will have to drive me places. It’s a Bugatti.
I’d have a home in New England, so I’d have a base of operations to visit my family; I’d buy a home here in Vegas as well, ‘cos I like it here; and I’d have a flat in London, which would be awesomely cool of me.
Certain members of my family would never want for anything ever again. Certain members would have trust funds so they would have money to dip into when they get big enough to go to college or blow it all on cute shoes.
Certain other members of my family will be wondering why I don’t feel like being their doormat anymore.
I would donate to Literacy Volunteers of America, and a bunch of health-related charities, and perhaps I would fund a scholarship for kids who want to grow up to be writers. Or punk rockers. I think there ought to be a scholarship for that.
I have very few friends at the moment. I am recording their names now, because I’ll be checking people off the list when they show up at my home in New England (or Vegas, or London), hands out, asking me if I remember what good friends they were to me.
I would go everywhere for vacation. First I’d go back to all the places I already know I like so much that, if I died, I’d regret not having gone back. Then I’d go to all the places I have wanted to see but haven’t yet. Then I’d go back to all the places I’ve only been to once before. Then I’d drive by all the places I’ve never wanted to go, and moon them out the car window.
The first luxury item I would buy (after having taken care of first-world necessities like beautiful homes and cars) would be a private jet. Did I mention that the environment can go hang?
My life would change so much if I had a hundred million dollars. Mostly for the better, I think. I would pick up a whole new set of worries, granted, but many of those that I have now would go away.
I would put aside enough to take care of myself in my old age (assuming I live that long) and spend the rest, because I don’t anticipate them figuring out a way I can take it with me.
I think it would change my current relationship quite a bit. Because we have so little, That Man of Mine and I have no choice but to share everything. Once I had that kind of money, I’d hand him a wad and advise him that, once that’s blown through, he will exist only by peanut butter and jelly and my good graces.
I’d definitely retire from the workforce, but I wouldn’t just walk in and say “I quit.” I like this job. I’d give them at least a month’s notice and help to train my replacement if needed.
I’m not saying I’d never work again. I would spend my time going back to school, and writing, instead. I just don’t want to punch a card, deal with the smell of fish and broccoli in the break room, or deal with rude people for low pay, anymore.
I would hire a staff to do the things I never want to be arsed with anymore, such as balancing my accounts and scrubbing my bathroom floor. Not to mention flying my jet. Oh, and my helicopter. I know a helicopter pilot.
I’d never have to fly my own helicopter anymore, if I didn’t want to.
I have never before typed the above words in that precise sequence. I thought you might want to know that.
The main dream I’d finally get to achieve would be to spend serious time abroad. I want to travel through Europe, taking pictures, drinking beer, and writing about it.
I would hire my office girlfriend, because he has such good fashion sense, to be my personal stylist. It would be his responsibility to make sure I never wind up on the “what-were-they-thinking?” pages of the celebrity magazines.
I firmly believe that the reason that rich people, like the Kardashians, are not fat is that they can afford some easy treatment that isn’t accessible to us po’ folks. So, if I won a hundred million dollars, I think I’d go find the secret place and pay them to make me sexy.
The main thing I think I’d miss about being poor is the fact that most people know that it’s a lost cause to hit me up for money. (I say most. There are still a few people who don’t realize that, just because I have more than they do, doesn’t mean I have enough to take care of myself and them.) Once I had my hundred mil, I’d miss no longer being that lost of a cause.
I suppose you think the first person I would tell ought to be That Man of Mine. Please. He is the very quintessence of champagne tastes on a Budweiser budget. I’m telling him last. The first person I would tell would be the Mom, and I will say it something like, just a casual, no-big-deal, “Here,” as I hand her a big fat check.
They say money doesn’t buy you happiness, and I have said many times that, were I only to have some, I would then have peace of mind, so I could make my own happiness.
That is true.
But I’ll amend it to say that having a hundred million dollars would mean I could hire Kari from Retro Bakery to deliver cupcakes daily. And I can have as many cupcakes as I want, because I already paid for the secret Kardashian thinnermaker.
As many cupcakes as I want?
Sounds like happiness to me.
drinking: ice water
listening to: Demi Lovato, Heart Attack
nanaimo bars: for those, it might be worth it to move to canada after all