Biggest Jackpot Ever and Best Buy Going Under

The lottery jackpot is the highest it has ever been in American History. It's over 640 million dollars. AKA some dumb fuck in Alabama is going to win the trailer of his dreams. Cuz’ you know, no one who ever deserves to win mega millions actually wins. It's ALWAYS either a waterbilly (A hillbilly who lives near the water) or a 95 year old woman hooked up to her oxygen machine.

After taxes you are looking at about $320 million. I can't even begin to imagine what having that amount of money would be like. After taxes I make approximately thirty six cents per hour, so I suppose that kinda money could allow me to be able to buy the ground beef not marked "manager's special". Right now I will put everything into scale for the masses, and by masses, I mean four people who read my blog. 

Five dollars for me is about twenty dollars to most people. Twenty is one-hundred. One hundred dollars is well....let me just say this; if hypothetically you are in jail and you need me to bail you out for a hundred bucks, your ass is gonna die in prison. Frankly, I’m shocked Sally Struther's hasn't put me on tape yet for one of her infomercials, do I need to rent a straw hut? Do I need prop flies? I’m not above it. I’m really gaunt and pale; I could easily pass for a 14 year old orphan with AIDS.

How am I able to survive, one could ask? The answer is coupons, more coupons, and generics. My furniture, my cereal, my toilet paper - it's all generic. No sir, you aren't going to find any ‘Charmin’ at my house. That’s not being resourceful. Sorry, there's some one-ply Kroeger toilet tissue I stole from our office building. It's good enough for floor six and now it's good enough for you. Don't worry; the blisters on your ass cheeks will clear up in a couple days.

This may sound really crazy, but sometimes in my spare time (when the jackpot is huge) I make a mock power point presentation detailing my lottery winnings. I make graphs in excel that detail out how much everyone I know will be getting. It's very scientific. I actually spend hours thinking about it and prepare my speeches to my family. "Well mom, I suppose you gave birth to me and fed me and stuff, but really last year was really disappointing. For my birthday when I asked for "no clothes, cash only" you sent me a jacket from Old Navy and no cash. I have told you ten thousand times even a small at Old Navy is too big for me; sure enough I had to return it. Come to think of it, Old Navy should really just manufacture clothes for circus animals. A medium sized Old Navy tank top could fit a medium sized Walrus, or an 8 year old from Texas, your choice. Minus $10,000 Mom. And Dad, minus $10,000 for you for telling mom my clothes are too tight and I need to dress more casual which really means, but you are too polite to say, less faggy. Sister- $10,000 for you, for once dating a hot man in the navy. Brother - minus $10,000 for you for letting mom even walk into 'Old Navy'. Also minus $10,000 for wearing square hipster glasses when you aren't a hipster, you're just dirty.

It’s also imperative to think about extended family and friends. I would normally give a large amount to my grandmother, but she has Alzheimer's and won’t remember what plank in the floor she hid it under. My aunts and uncles I like to various degrees and how much money they get would depend on how Jewy I'm feeling that day. There are a lot of details to consider. My power point presentation by this point is very complicated and looks like a graph with a drawing of an angry octopus. I'm also giving Wanda at the security desk at least five hundred to go and get herself a new wig and maybe she could even use the leftover cash to buy herself a god damn smile. I think I would also waltz into Canter’s deli and give buy everyone a slice of pie a la mode just so I could feel like Bridget Fonda in "It Could Happen To You". Disappointingly, I also have to save some of the money to give to charity to make it seem like I'm a nice person. I also will also need a considerable amount saved so I can semi-permanently live in the castle at Disney World. I know technically it's reserved for dignitaries but EVERYONE has a price. Don’t believe me? Just visit broke straight boys dot com and you'll see what I mean. Disclaimer -Don't actually visit that site. Unless you’re looking for trouble.

In even more exciting news, fifty ‘Best Buy’ stores are going out of business. SHOCKER. Best Buy actually doesn't have employees, they have zombies dressed in frat party blue cup blue. Have you ever tried to ask for help at Best Buy? The employees are so lazy and full of shit. I went into best buy once to purchase a plasma television. When I came home I realized I had just bought a really shiny dishwasher. That's not a true story, but I wish it was. I hope they go under. When you are fired from the DMV you go to work at Best Buy. That much I do know.

Cross your fingers, by tomorrow I could have six-hundred forty million dollars.

Rain in LA

This past Sunday, rain swept across Los Angeles and Los Angeles County. For those of you who aren't West Coast natives, today's blog is a synopsis of what actually happens when it rains in Los Angeles.

THE CITY GOES INTO LOCKDOWN MODE. PEOPLE PANIC. 


And, as far as I know, no one in LA even owns an umbrella except obviously Rhianna who actually owns three, or maybe just a single contraption called an umbrella-ella-ella. I'm assuming it's similar to an umbrella, but much bigger, like a golf umbrella. Also, I should point out that with my hideous Baltimore accent the word 'umbrella' is actually pronounced "umbrulla". Go ahead, say it now, um-brew-lah. When it rains in LA it is like the movie "Twister" and you are Helen Hunt. But hopefully prettier and more talented. There are cars flying everywhere, mud slides, flash floods, and Channel 4 reporting that the rain storm will be the end of LA as we know it. You MAY soon find yourself in a storm shelter with nothing except herbal tea, fat free frozen yogurt and a pair of ugg boots.

The great part about LA rain is that people hide. I went to target on Santa Monica Boulevard on Sunday and I and could actually shop in the ex-lax aisle without 29 skinny bitches fighting over the last box. I also thought about buying an umbrulla and returning it. But, by the time I would have picked one out that would have matched my eyes I would have had to pay for parking. It's $1.50 per hour after the first hour and, fuck that. No where else in America do you have to pay to park at a Target, except in Los Angeles. I just need a light bulb, some undies and a box of ding dongs, I'm not paying to park in your nightmare death trap parking lot for $1.50. Get it together Target.

I'm not a science teacher but I don't think they have a weather unit in LA elementary schools. When I went to school we learned about all sorts of weather patterns and how to prepare for disaster. I grew up in Baltimore. We had sun, rain, lightning, snow, tornados, hurricanes and black death. Okay, so black death wasn't so much a weather pattern, it was just a nightly occurrence at the Savon Liquor Store on Cherry Ave. Bottom line is that LA Public schools are notoriously bad. If you have ever encountered a child raised in Los Angeles, do not panic, the child is not retarded, he or she just probably went to LA Public School. In LA's defense I have to say that designing a curriculum based around Los Angeles weather patterns would be a fuckin' big waste of every one's time. "Today kids, we are going to scientifically examine weather. If you look out the window it's bright and sunny, and if the big glowing ball in the sky is yellow, it's daytime. If you look up on top of that mountain you will notice a giant layer of toxic smog that will cause erectile dysfunction, douche bag syndrome and Asian offspring when you're older. Take a big whiff, we are all breathing it in every moment. This concludes our lesson on weather. Next week we will cover earthquakes and also take a field trip to the La Brea tar pits. Bring a book, cuz' it's fuckin boring".

It drives me bonkers that the rain is the only topic of conversation on every ones lips. Even the terminally despondent Target cashiers get involved during checkout. "Wow, it's raining cats and dogs out there." I really hate that expression. One day I hope it happens. With all those dogs and cats falling from the sky my only question is, what would the crazy cat lady do? Would she kill herself because she ran out of room to save all the kitties?

When it rains in LA, the world news comes to a an abrupt stop. Ya got it? NO NEWS. On Sunday there was no conflict in Uganda, no primary election, and we even shelved the fact that this past month Halle Berry is in a shark movie that went direct to DVD. The only thing natives wonder is, will it ever stop? Is same side street parking in effect in the event of a flash flood? (the answer is probably yes) And finally, will LA turn into a frozen tundra and will Jake Gyllenhaal be chased down by giant wolves?

It finally stopped did stop raining yesterday. Thankfully the LA fire department has cleaned up the 245 car accidents caused by bad drivers going too slow in the rain. The power is back on and Los Angeleans everywhere can return to eating porch side 'In & Out' and drive off dangerously slowly into the sunset, sans turn signals.

SkyMall

One can no longer find SkyMall in the back of a seat pocket. I'm sure everyone is aware, and if you aren't, shame on you; SkyMall WAS perhaps the most fun you could ever have on an airplane. At 30,000 feet it was possible to shop for solar powered cooling hat, cat steps, or a jumbo sized gumball machine. I don’t know what you would do with these items when you landed, but after 3 scotches, an inflatable remote controlled flying monkey sure seems like fun. You could walk into a little persons convention and play "Wizard Of Oz". These are the thoughts I had while reading SkyMall, usually while drunk.

I can't think of anything more strange than buying a luxury stairway for your hairless cat, except maybe having a giant gumball machine on display in your kitchen. When you go to Cotsco and purchase a barrel of giant gum balls for $11.99, do you really want to have to pay an additional quarter every time you want a piece of gum? I don't know if you could consider SkyMall Magazine a luxury airplane item, but considering now that there's nothing to read except for the safety card of death, I would consider it pampering.

I suppose if you have nothing to read and you are a neurotic person you can look at the airplane safety card over and over and over. PS – I have done this. My favorite drawing is always the cartoon people leisurely floating on the big yellow raft in the ocean – looking quite complacent. It makes me laugh. I think to myself "I'd rather die in an airplane crash than be trapped on a raft in the middle of the Pacific next to you, Chatty Charlie. PS PS I am also angry at Southwest that they have only charged you for one seat, despite the fact that you, my good sir, should be required to buy two. The mere thought that I would be trapped on the raft with you, listening to you rant on about, oh, I don't know, the discontinuation of SkyMall Magazine - it makes me want to kill myself. In fact I hope our plane crashes into that mountain before we land in Baltimore.

Water With Lemons

One of the greatest joys in life is when a restaurant waiter actually puts the lemon in my water without having to specify “water with lemon please”. These two items, water and lemon, would seem to go hand in hand. Like Lucy and Ethel. Cows and Milk. Arsenic and old lace. Remember the days when you would just get a slice of lemon in your water without asking for it? Nowadays, you must specify "with lemon" and your server will look angry that you having requested such a novelty. You know what, Debbie from 'Applebees', I don't need your attitude. I did not request a sharper knife that made you dig through the utensil drawer. I did not request a booster seat which signifies you will be picking up Cheerios off the floor 45 minutes after your shift ends. I did not order an eight dollar dessert that you will have to labor over and garnish yourself because the establishments I can afford to eat at (IE 'Shakeys' or 'Chiles'), do not have a pastry chef but rather, a pastry microwave. All I have requested was a slice of lemon in my water! I have waited tables and I’m positive lemon involves no personal application, except picking up a pair of tongs. I’m so sorry to trouble you.

Pampering and Spa Style

Pampering/My day at Burke Williams -

On Saturday, March 24 I had my first ever Spa experience. Let me preface my entry by saying I’m not one who typically has the luxury of being pampered, nor is pampering something I'd say I’m comfortable with. My idea of being pampered is when Bed Bath and Beyond will accept my expired $5 off coupon. Or perhaps pampering means finding a a nice Latino man in the 'Home Depot' parking lot who is willing to paint your entire apartment for $30. That my friends, is pampering...

Moving forward to my day at the Spa….

I awoke at 11 am and the day was crisp and cool. I enjoyed a lovely breakfast of coffee and eggs and got ready for my spa appointment. I had never actually been to a spa before, AND this was Burke Williams, one of the premier spas in LA. I was feeling all fancy pants and perhaps wondering if I should wear a suit because I would appear wealthy and powerful. Then, I quickly realized my suit was from H&M. So, instead I went the more casual route. Settled on skinny jeans, a button up, a cute Armani Exchange necklace and lace up high-tops. Later that afternoon I discovered I should have gone in sweats and a tee shirt. Between all the quick changes involved in going to a spa getting naked and un-naked, I could have my made life a lot easier. Most of the people going into Burke Williams looked like hell. Most of the people coming out looked like a shinier version of hell. I spent a quarter of my spa day just trying to put on my skinny jeans and high tops. After all the steaming, boiling, lotions and potions, it's really difficult to put on skinny jeans, especially when you are so relaxed your entire body feels like a gelatinous blob. Lack of muscle control people. Putting on skinny jeans is a hard task, even on a skinny day.

I was given a quick tour of the spa by a boy named James. (Actually, I don't remember his name; I was too traumatized by seeing dozens of naked, antique men to really be paying attention to details). We started out with a tour of a space called the quiet room. Essentially, a giant storage closet turned into an isolation tank. He told me I could sit on these big comfy chairs and nap. Do people really come to Burke Williams to take a nap? I thought to myself, "Wow, after getting a massage and a facial and sitting in a hot tub for four hours I will be extremely tired and stressed out. I'd better go to the quiet room to take a nap." He also pointed out the bucket of cucumbers just outside the room. You could put them on your eyes while you took a nap. The tour boy also told me sometimes people eat the cucumbers. I thought that was really weird and white trash and disgusting. Later, I actually saw someone eat one of the cucumbers. There was a ton of fresh fruit in each room…were people really that famished that they needed to eat the cucumbers? Also, there was no ranch dressing.

As a side note - I've never actually put cucumbers on my eyes, but later that afternoon I decided to give it a whirl. I didn't realize how difficult it was to actually get them to stay on. Maybe I'm just extra twitchy or maybe I have graves disease, but I really feel like Burke Williams is doing a dis-service by not putting out some scotch tape or maybe petroleum jelly. They just wouldn't stay on. Also, I should provide a safety tip about cucumbers (I'm sure I'm not the first person to do so). If you decide to put cucumbers on your eyes, and five minutes earlier you have dried your neck and shoulders with a cool rosemary mint spritzed spa towel - wash your damn hands. Apparently rosemary mint spritz is actually a paralyzing, eye ball burning toxic agent. Three minutes of excruciating pain in your eyeballs will occur if the spritz is indirectly applied to cucumbers.

Moving on with our tour he took me to the mens spa. Or as I would call it, "The Manz spa". He referred to it as 'European Style". This means if you are old, fat and nasty, feel free to be butt ass naked. If you are even reasonably attractive, please keep your clothes on. I find this rule to apply to nude beaches as well (not that I've ever been to one). He told me if I had to do number two to please make sure to shower before entering any of the facilities. I would never consider using a public restroom to do such a thing; however, now I was really scared. What did he mean by that? Am I going to be bathing in poo water?! I thought taking a shower before entering any pool or hot tub was just common sense! After misting myself with citrus spray (apparently Burke Williams has lemons o'plenty (unlike 'Chile's' and Applebees - see lemon water post) and having an organic banana I felt calm and relaxed enough to do the whole hot tub, sauna, steam room thing. I do have to say it was quite amazing and relaxing, even if in the hot tub I was reading fitness magazine about how bananas are making me fat.

After being cooked for a good 30 minutes I went to the waiting room to wait for my specialist for my facial. By this point everyone was in white robes, sitting around looking all steamy being very quiet and meditative. There I was, minding my own business when Jasmine and her seven best friends from the cast of "Madea Goes To Jail" showed up for their spa day birthday party. "Girl, that hot tub was boilin'! "Did you have any of that lemonade…itz good!" "Where you wanna sit girl!? One of them even picked up her cellphone and started yelling at her husband. I do admit, the birthday girl looked extra glamorous in her crown from the 99 Cent store. Suddenly, the waiting room went from a relaxing, meditative space, to become the extras holding tank on a Tyler Perry movie. The women were quickly escorted out by a bunch of massage therapists, who already seemed super annoyed that the women were causing such a commotion in the waiting area and also that they probably wouldn't be getting tipped.

Then it was my turn. My moment had arrived. 50 minutes of pure bliss facial treatment. She rubbed many different lotions on my face and opened up my pores and massaged my shoulders. For the most part, it was super relaxing and fun. I came out looking weeks younger. I only have a few constructive criticisms. My esthetician was pretty and sweet but I wish she would have gave me a brief run-down of the standard operating procedure before she started going all Grey's Anatomy on me. I knew we were headed down a slippery slope when she told me to dip my hands in paraffin wax at the beginning and she didn't tell mention the wax was boiling lava hell hot. I think she could tell I was a little irked about the wax when she said before one of the applications "this may cause a slight sensation, this has clove in it". What she really meant to say is, "This will burn your fuckin' face off, but don't scream, we're in a quiet space!" Also, towards the end, she took a tweezer/scalpel like instrument to my nose and started what she called "exfoliating". Exfoliating means gently taking a layer off. She should have just had a helmet and a jackhammer, it was like she was digging for a water line! I consider myself to have a pretty high tolerance for pain and I'm sure I was tearing up. I'm also sure you couldn't tell I was crying because of the hot rosemary mist blowing in my face which was already causing me to be sweaty and puffy and red. After she was done exfoliating I said to her "wow, you don't put that part in the brochure". She giggled and gave me the "oopsies" face. I really wish she had been Asian, it would have made the exchange even more hilarious.

I walked away from Burke Williams feeling quite extraordinary. If nothing else, for a good two hours my pores would salute to the sun and I would look awake and energetic. It's a real change from the normal me --- baggy eyed, black headed and blemished. I can't wait to go back and feel that cool scalpel against my face. Thank you to my lovely boss for treating me to a day at the Spa. Next time I go back I will be wearing sweat pants with holes in them, oh, and possibly a plastic crown from the 99 cent store.