Well, not all of the lottery. I won four dollars. That's pretty cool, I guess.
If you know me, you understand that bad luck tends to hit me in unexpected, devastating ways. One minute everything is fine, and the next minute everything is bleeding or something needs to be cut out of me or that bitch done run off and left or somebody shoots someone. It happens so often that, perhaps naively, I have full faith that eventually karma will balance the universe and I will be met with tremendously good fortune.
So I was excited a few years ago when my mother called me to tell me she had a dream I won the lottery. She was convinced that it was only a matter of time until I'd be obscenely rich, and it seemed like such a nice idea that I completely fell for it. I started diligently buying lottery tickets in the big jackpots, looking forward to drawings and the inevitable tipping of the great big scale called Destiny. It didn't work out though, and I learned a valuable lesson.
Winning the lottery is hard.
I'm a math dork, I understand the impossible odds. But that's not what I'm talking about. The actual process of going to buy a lottery ticket is more difficult than you'd think. I'm the guy who can't remember to take his clothes out of the dryer, even as the buzzer goes off. So remembering to buy a lottery ticket every Wednesday and Friday is a giant pain in the ass. When you add in the pressure of knowing that you're supposed to win the lottery, you can understand the tremendous guilt I feel when I forget to buy a ticket.
Baby has made it even worse. When I confessed about the lottery obsession, I also explained that I didn't have any lucky numbers that were going to be the key to my success- I just used the random-generated ones. She got surprisingly angry about that, and she set herself to figuring out what my lucky numbers should be. She came up with a combination of our birthdays and ages and the year we started dating, and I allowed her to convince me that those numbers would be the ones. And for a while, I was relieved.
But the first time I forgot to buy a ticket I realized I had made a terrible mistake. I was honestly terrified to check the numbers the following day. Of course our numbers would hit, and of course I wouldn't have bought a ticket. This is me we're talking about, after all. If anyone is going to fail to win the lottery when they're supposed to hit the jackpot, it's going to be me. So now I'm forever cursed to play the lottery to avoid fulfilling my own shitty destiny. Awesome.
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4 comments:
Sounds like my life. All candy coated, and dripping gue. Winning the lottery could be easier just join e-lotto, and you're enter to play every week. Cool Beans. Happy New Year to all, even the proclaimed atheist, or does happiness really come in a bottle?
So I read that spam, and I liked it so much that I decided to keep it.
I'm especially appreciative of the fact that even I, the lowly atheist (although I don't remember proclaiming to be, but meh) am wished a Happy New Year. How thoughtful.
PS- Happiness does come in a bottle. And that bottled is marked "Ativan."
Hey, even atheists get New Years, right? 'Cause I'm going to be drinking to something...or nothing. Whatevs.
PS - That bottle is marked "Sephora". Ask Baby.
Because this blog is usually nothing more than my vehicle for coming out of the closet, I can admit here that I actually know all about Sephora.
And although Baby has explained that their products are actually worth it, I can't imagine how women bring themselves to wade through nine rows of Pentagon City fashonista-wannabe fatties to buy a twenty dollar tube of lipstick.
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