Internet, I’m feeling rather broke right now. And when I feel broke, I like to imagine what it would feel like to not be broke. To, instead, have a well-padded bank account, credit cards with no limits (and no balances), and the ability to buy anything I want, whenever I want. To pretend, in other words, that I am a millionaire.
If I had a million dollars, I would…
Send all my laundry out to be cleaned. Sheets, underwear, dirty socks…all of it. I would let it pile up to monstrous heights and then drop it all off at the nearest laundry services center. Then I’d hire that launderer to come to my house and put it all away (after all, that’s the worst part).
Hire a personal chef to make all my weekday meals. Did you know that there are people out there who will come to your house and make you gourmet meals that they then stash in your freezer for your re-heating pleasure? It’s true. And they bring all the groceries with them. Heaven, that’s what that is.
Get daily maid service. Bi-weekly cleaning ladies are so bourgeoisie. If I had a million dollars, I’d hire someone to come in every day. And leave me little Andes mints on my pillow. And maybe even make me one of these:
Hire a stylist so good that she could do my hair and makeup while I get Tori ready in the morning. Because I usually get so caught up in chasing her around that I end up with a half-done face and hair that needs ten more minutes of styling to look good.
Get a personal assistant to pimp my blog. I am certain that the best way to get big is to comment endlessly and pimp relentlessly. But I don’t have that kind of time. So, clearly, if I am going to be the next dooce, or heck, even the next Aunt Becky, I need someone to do my pimping for me.
Get a body double for photographs. I don’t take good pictures. I just don’t. What I need is someone who has been trained to pose successfully. Then, of course, I’d need…
My own personal Photoshop pro. The airbrushing tools in Photoshop can work wonders. I should know, I work in advertising. This pro, would, of course, also handle every photo of me tagged anywhere on the internet.
Pay someone to invent run-proof tights. That’s just a dream of mine. Because I? Never fail to punch holes in mine the first time I put them on (but continue to wear them for months, nonetheless).
Buy a sweet little jet, with a pilot to fly it. That way, when I get one of those urges to just. run. away? I could—and still be back in time for dinner.
I’d also need a private villa on the Caribbean, a team of baby wranglers at my beck and call and, of course, a personal trainer to whoop my body into shape. Maybe I’d even take up Scientology or one of those other religions crazy rich people get into (just kidding about that last one). At the very least, I’d pay off every damn one of my credit cards. Dare to dream…
What would you do with a million dollars, dear readers?
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