Powerball Hangover

I’m not sure if this is a quirk or not, but I don’t buy lottery tickets. When people ask why, my response goes something like this:

Me: “No, I don’t buy lottery tickets.”

Lottery Junkie: “Why not, it’s so much fun!”

Me: “I bought them twice before, and didn’t win.”

Lottery Junkie: “You expect to win after only two tries? Luck could happen at anytime. You must be prepared!!!” (then they usually roar like a lion, I don’t understand why.)

Me: “Well, I just don’t like to throw good money after bad.” And then I give them a big toothy grin to show I was only pulling their chain. Then they stop, because no one trumps a good end joke.

But the truth is, I don’t like the lottery hangover. You know, up all night talking about what you’d do if you won. The dreams of cars, houses, hot men (or women), and no longer having a day/night job. Paris, Milan, Albuquerque – you’re a travelling man of mysterious awesomeness!

But then the next morning, despair, sadness, mucked up energy because the dream fizzled and died. Someone in rural Missouri stole your dreams away with a random stop at a dilapidated gas station. You’ve been scorned by the universe, and now you just want to spend the day curled up in bed.

And today I was discussing this with coworker M, who may allegedly be a lottery junkie. She would probably deny this. Maybe I’m being unfair. But our conversation went something like this.

Coworker M: “But you miss the fun of staying up all night talking about what you would do with the money. The hopes, the dreams, the future. My boyfriend and I did that for hours last night. It was lovely.”

Me: “Oh yeah, my boyfriend tried that conversation and I told him, ‘I’ll figure it out when it happens.'”

Coworker M: “You’re no fun.”

Me: “That’s what the Boyfriend said!”

Coworker M: “And then I asked my boyfriend if we won the lottery, and the next day I died, would he give the all money away.”

Me: <cricket noises>

Coworker M: “You know, because the lottery’s cursed. I told him I would give away the money if he died. Cuz I would want that money as far away from me as possible.”

Me: “You could give it to me.”

Coworker M: “I’ll do that. If I win the lottery, and my boyfriend dies the next day, you can have all the money. No strings attached.”

Me: “Excellent…”

That Murder She Wrote episode just wrote itself, didn’t it?


Posted on November 29, 2012, in About Me, Quirks and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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