No work again today. No matter. I’m still looking up jobs on the
internet. I’m not planning on being a landscaper for the rest of my
life.

No, really.

I want to be a writer, didn’t you know?

While Amanda was off at work last night, I headed up to Bourbon Street
to meet up with my friends. The beer is ridiculously inexpensive over
there. $1.25 domestic bottles on Thursday evenings. We were sitting at
a table, drinking the aforementioned beer when a gentleman all decked
out in White Sox garb comes to our table. Small talk ensued until he
dropped a startling fact on us: He was the proud owner of eight World
Series tickets. He pulled them out of his wallet and showed them to us.
They were creased with folds, but it was unmistakable: eight grey
tickets to Comiskey Park (yes, I’m still railing against U.S. Cellular
buying out the name of the stadium) priced at $140 each.

Lucky bastard.

Speaking of those, there’s news of a winner of a $340 million lottery
prize ($110 million after taxes, but that’s still an obscene amount of
money) somewhere in Oregon. How do you even begin to spend that amount
of money short of giving it all away, considering you can easily live
off the interest if you stuffed it in an interest-earning savings
account? My best friend suggested buying an island. How’s this for a
pickup line? “Hey, would you like to hop in my private jet to my island
to my airport to my mansion into my hot tub?” Who wouldn’t be able to
resist that?

My other friend suggested paying the $20 million ticket to go to outer
space. I, personally, would travel everywhere. After my trips to Italy
and Jamaica, it really opened my eyes to the fact that there’s a world
outside of America. I firmly believe that to travel at least once
outside of the country is mandatory for everyone before they die.
There’s so much of the world to see and explore and learn about.

I would love to go to an opera in Syndey, swim in the Mediterranean, have
a picnic by the Champs-Elysses, explore the Great Pyramids, kneel by
Gethsemane, see a play in London’s West End, have some fish and chips
in Ireland, walk down the Great Wall, and much more. Not by myself, of
course. Taking in the world is meant to be shared with someone else.

If I end up doing these things, I’m definitely taking my pen and paper with.



Archives