We occasionally buy lottery tickets.  We don’t go crazy or anything.  We only buy one or two and have never played any special numbers.  You have to be in it to win it, right?  If we won, and I mean won as in won big as in won the $169 million or let’s just bump it up to $200 million and let’s say we take the lump sum and don’t have to pay taxes on it.  This is my hypothetical situation, so stop your grumblings.  IF we were to win, I think I would be a terrible winner.

First off, we would collect the money anonymously so that Uncle Joe and his wife and six kids, whom The Hubbs and I have never met before or heard of, don’t show up on our doorstep looking for some biscuits. Because you know six kids can eat some biscuits.  Also, it would keep those wanty charities from calling for donations (which they call “support”) to help the polar bears who won’t stop sun-bathing, the alligators who no longer feel the need to swim , and those things with brown trunks and green things growing out of the top – oh yes, trees.  The only downside to collecting anonymously is missing out on a moment to present my beautifulness to the rolling cameras.

Secondly, the purchases we would immediately pursue would be the following: investing part of it, buying a new house with too many rooms and a kitchen the size of our old house with two restaurant size ovens and a fridge with the two freezer drawers on the bottom, and shiny new cars that I can’t name because I don’t know anything about cars – just imagine us owning whichever cars fabulous people own, hiring help to maintain our living spaces and landscaping so that when visitors arrive I can claim to do it all myself, and a stylist for me.  Don’t get me wrong, the hired help would get some credit.  I don’t want people thinking that I still crawl on my hands and knees to scrub a floor.  It’s just the magnificent rose gardens flanking the house that receive “my” tender love and care.  They grow for ME!  The stylist is, of course, just there to put the finishing touches on a masterpiece – not create it.

Thirdly, we can now afford to have children.  We will have 4 children, 2 boys and 2 girls.  They will not know the meaning of “summer jobs.”  What?!  The summer is for travelling abroad.  My girls will inherit The Hubbs’ ability to tan in 10 seconds and his charm, thus they will be bronze goddesses even in the winter who can persuade members of the Taliban to give their name and location in their next YouTube video.  My boys will inherit my keen business sense and my wit.  The fact that they will be dashingly handsome is a given.  And to your surprise, I’m sure, our children will be graceful, kind and have good hearts.  When you’re born into money, you have a better chance at having some character, okay?

I will treat myself to those really expensive Christmas ornaments, gorgeous sofa pillows, face creams for different hours of the day, hire a man whose sole job is to kill bugs, have a grilling area with fashionable outdoor furniture and cutesy tiki torches and candle arrangements with rocks.  I will start my own fashion line because that is what rich people do and I won’t actually design any of the clothes.  I’ll just tell the designer what I like and again, take all the credit.  I’ll tell people that I am fully involved with the “creative process.”

And at the end of each day, The Hubbs and I will high-five each other and laugh at our great luck.  Now, if I could just find that ticket he bought…