It's no secret that I dream about winning the lottery. And when I see a lottery jackpot climb and climb, I always play a quick pick or two. Wednesday night was no exception.
As Hubby was driving us home from work, I saw a Powerball sign in the window of a convenience store stating that that night's jackpot was $258 million smackers. Holy freakin crap, right?!
So, I yelled and pointed, "Pull over! Pull over! Big money! Big money!" And? I scared the crap out of Hubby. He was not expecting my outburst, when suddenly, he swerved into the store's dirt parking lot a la Dukes of Hazzard and said:
Hubby: Jeez, Sal! You scared the shit out of me!
Me: I'm sorry! But, we need to play Powerball! I really think we're going to win!
Hubby: Oh, really?!
Me: Yep. I asked Father George (our friend who's a priest)
to put in a word for us with Jesus. I figure he's got connections. He said he'd work on it. AND THAT was like TWO weeks ago!
Hubby: I don't think it works like that. But, whatever...
Then Hubby got out of the car, went into the convenience store, and bought us THE DREAM:
Which, by the way, I can now wipe my ass with because it wasn't the winning ticket. Son-of-a-bitch.
Yep. You heard correctly.
I am sad to report that once again, I---even though I was soooo convinced that the moolah was meant for me (thanks for nothing, Father George)---was not the Powerball winner. Boo hoo.
And in case you don't know who the winner of that luscious jackpot was, it was this guy: And I am not even freaking kidding you, people (click here for details)!
Okay, Jesus. I get it.
He needs it more than I do.
I just hope that Choppers McGee can muster up some self control....because you and I know that it won't be long before the skanks start beating down his double-wide door to get to his rich, toothless ass.
Isn't it amazing how millions of dollars can suddenly turn any man into a sexay thang?
This loser's got to get back to the daily grind.
But first, I have the sudden urge to floss and brush my teeth.
Who's with me?