As you may know, this blog was a spinoff from the countless emails I sent out to coworkers over the years containing our lottery pool numbers. (If this isn’t ringing a bell, you can catch up by clicking on “About Me.” Unless you don’t care, then go ahead and be oblivious.)
Recently, after years of fruitless tries and broken dreams, I decided it was time to step down as pool president and major gopher. Fortunately, another deluded player picked up the gauntlet; and while she buys MegaMillions tickets instead of Powerball tickets, it’s all the same to us since our odds of winning are the same, i.e., just this side of nonexistent.
Anyway, I thought I’d share a sample of the lottery emails that gave false hope to so many for so long. I confess that my thoughts frequently rambled off in strange directions. I guess that’s the point.
Feb. 3, 2006
The numbers for tomorrow night’s Powerball drawing are on my desk. If you forgot to pay, you can pick up your own ticket and throw it in the pool. Given the perverse nature of things, that ticket would undoubtedly be the winning ticket, which you would have to share with the rest of us just because you are a procrastinator. Or another option is to save a dollar this time around. The odds of succeeding with this strategy are very good.
Life is murky and complicated.
March 31, 2006
The numbers for tomorrow night’s Powerball drawing are on my desk. I forgot to pick up four extra tickets from our $4 win on Wednesday. So sue me. I have a lot on my mind. I will pick them up before tomorrow night, unless I can’t. I have to get my hair cut and the tree guy is coming over to give me an estimate on trimming my oak trees, of which there are a lot and they’re big and old and haven’t been trimmed in a very long time if ever. I’ll get the numbers eventually and when I do I’ll let you know. Don’t be calling my house and whining into the answering machine.
April 3, 2006
We did not win on Saturday. Nobody won, so Wednesday’s drawing will be for $174 million. That’s okay, as my need for cash has grown some since the tree guy’s visit.
The tree guy wants $500 a tree to trim my oaks. I’m no arborist, but this seems excessive to me. Of course, his estimate was based on the extreme beauty of my trees compared to the average oak – and what it would cost to replace one if I lost it, as if I would. There’s a whole bunch of them. Maybe if I were going to enter them in the Best Minnesota Oak contest or charge admission to look at them, but mostly I expect they’ll just sit there for another hundred years dropping a bajillion leaves every fall.
I figure the tree guy took one look at me and thought, “This looks like someone who’s about to win the lottery,” or maybe “This looks like someone who doesn’t know her oak from her ash.” Which is true for the most part; however, I’m very familiar with the term $500.
Nov. 7, 2006
Yes, I know I didn’t send out the numbers for last Saturday’s drawing. I’ve been busy. Anyway, our losing streak remains intact, big surprise.
Did you vote? You should vote. Unless you’re going to vote for the wrong people. Then you should just stay home.
Nov. 22, 2006
Time to ante up for Powerball. Some of you have turned in nothing but empty promises, which means I’ll have to carry you indefinitely. A buck will buy about eight cigarettes nowadays, you know. I’d hate to give up smoking. It gives my children fits and my doctor something to complain about other than the fact that I still haven’t made out a living will. Pull the plug, don’t pull the plug – how should I know? But I digress. Quit procrastinating – I haven’t the heart to toss you out of the pool, but some of these other folks don’t really care.
Dec. 6, 2006
You probably heard that an Eden Prairie man with the nickname “Lucky” walked around for a month before he noticed that he had a $47 million Powerball ticket in his wallet. Some of you are probably thinking, maybe Judy is walking around with a winning ticket and doesn’t know it. Not true. I checked. Some of you may even be wishing Lucky was the person buying your tickets every week. Well, Lucky doesn’t work here. Lucky probably doesn’t work anywhere anymore.
Let us try to be optimistic, shall we?