I have good news. Actually, it’s GREAT NEWS!!!
You know how I say I’m going to get that six thousand dollar toilet hundred thousand dollar rug ten thousand dollar refrigerator fourteen thousand dollar stove fifty thousand dollar mattress fifteen thousand dollar gown three thousand dollar pair of shoes twelve thousand dollar handbag six hundred thousand million dollar trip to everywhere and live a very very very fine life?
It. Is. Going. To. Happen.
On the advice of Oprah and her team of spiritual gurus, I put my wishes out into the world under the guise of writing this blog. I know you thought it was about design or everything or nothing, and it is, but its true intention was as a love letter to the universe, a test of the laws of attraction.
Guess what? It worked. The power of the universe is mighty!
Yep. You read it here first. I hit the mother-load of trifectas, my friend friends.
My ship came in, my lottery ticket hit and the genie granted my wishes.
ALL AT ONCE!
Some Secrets are meant to get out. I’m voting for Pope-rah at the Conclave, y’all.
As proof, I offer you the email I just received from the Queen. Of England:
See? It pays to be a dreamer. Call me Money.
It’s what I go by now.
My days will be filled with all kinds of high falootin’ goodness. I’ll do fun things, like spend more time studying the great masters like Michelangelo, Leonardo, Raphael and Donatella Versace:
I am so glad the boys are back. They were my son’s favorite and I miss his little self.
I’ll finally get a pony to go with the horse shat in this photo, and then I’ll buy Fives some coordination:
It isn’t going to come cheap. He’s a bit of a klutz. He went all in and lost his shirt. That will teach him to gamble near horse manure.
I’ll have the power to change the weather on a dime, so that some days look like this:
But the rest will be warm and sunny.
(By the way, Paris is gorgeous in the snow. Everybody else wimps out and you get the city to yourself. It’s magical.)
I will get a new dog who is really my old dog, by cloning her DNA. I still have some around here somewhere. It’s been 7 years and I still miss her. I will stand by the bed and stare at her all night, then take her to the beach every day:
Because I didn’t do everything right the first time around.
Our carefree days will be spent on this little slip of land I’m rehabbing into my private getaway:
I’ll tell my secretary butler assistant to show me specialness like that if I’m having a bad day, but this little exchange makes me wonder if it’s too late to ship my offspring to finishing school in Switzerland. Sometimes I think they aren’t fully baked yet. (Apple doesn’t fall far, I guess.)
Also, I refuse to have bad days now that I’m wealthy. You can’t live a fine life without laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Believe me, I’ve tried.
It can’t be done.
Okay, well, let’s say it shouldn’t be done. I, for one, don’t like bugs up my arse, but if that’s the way you like to roll, please roll away from me. You are not going to keep me from my appointed task:
There is a Katnap in my future. As a matter of fact, I’m so flush with cash, there are many, many more days like that to come.
I’m sad to say that I will be so busy doing what wealthy people do, that I won’t have time to write blog posts anymore. Safaris need to be taken and beaches must be explored. There are manses to tour and amazing dresses to wear. I will literally be phoning it in to my PA/Butler/Secretary.
I will also be wrinkle free and stay at least 5 pounds underweight…I need a little wiggle room.
Now, I must reply to Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs, collect my winnings and hop aboard a Net Jet, en route to London, where I will catch up with one Ms. Jennie Granger and gather my inheritance, as the sole beneficiary of a gazillion dollars.
Just let me double check her info before I go:
Oh. I see. Never mind.
See you back here in a couple of days.