On Friday, MoLinder and I were hanging out on the porch when we saw a particularly blustery gust of wind fucking around with a nice, clean dollar, trying to force it into the sewer. Seeing it as a sign, MoLinder jumped off the porch and ran out onto the street, snagging the cash.
"We are so fucking winning the Mega Millions."
"I can't believe no one's ever thought of just doing this before. Sitting around, getting drunk, waiting to win the lottery."
"I know. Douchebags. We are awesome and brilliant."
"Yes we are."
A flawless plan for financial success, no doubt. Find a dollar, buy a Mega Millions Quick Pick, receive $78 million. It's just so simple. And then I'm buying a real, live pony (or maybe a burro. Or both), which is all I ever really wanted anyway, other than you know, constant love and desire, complete devotion from the proletariat, unlimited Cool Ranch Doritos, beauty, and uh, immortality.
But we forgot to account for the fact that I am one unlucky motherfucker, which is why I never play the lottery. Gambling is fine when it involves rules and skillful deception. Or dice. Seriously, I have more moxie playing the penny poker slots than asking the guy at 7-11 for a Mega Millions Quick Pick.
So we totally didn't win. You just missed out on a lifetime of listening to me brag about That One Time I Won The Lottery And Bought A Pony (Or A Burro. Or Both).