I don’t want to suggest that we never won anything in the lottery pool at work. Occasionally we’d win jackpots of $3 to $7, which amounted to something like 27¢ apiece, so obviously we chose to shovel anything we won into more Powerball numbers. I don’t know about anyone else, but I never did claim the winnings on my taxes. Let ’em come after me, the bastards.
Feb. 27, 2008
I am on vacation next week, but I will pick up the Powerball numbers while I’m out. I understand some people here are spending their vacation in sunny Palm Springs. I will be catching up on things like plumbing and auto maintenance. However, I am taking my mother to the casino one day, and since she is usually lucky, I think I’ll buy our Powerball ticket while I’m there and have Mom spit on it. What?
May 5, 2008
You may have heard that someone from Minnesota won $180 million on Saturday and thought, “By golly, I’ll bet that’s us!” Let me dispel that notion quickly. Of course it wasn’t us. It was someone in Rice County. I don’t even know where Rice County is.
July 1, 2008
I know I’m sometimes remiss in sending out the Powerball numbers, leaving people in the dark for weeks at a time. While I have no good excuse, I think I have some insight into why these lapses occur. I took a Rorschach test once (yes, the inkblot thing). For the most part I saw the normal stuff (bear climbing mountain, two duckmen with duck bills and duck feet), and then we came to the headless woman. The headless woman was wearing a dress with a high collar with nothing above it except her little hands fluttering in the air, feeling for the place where her head should have been. That’s what I saw and that’s what I said. The person administering the test didn’t say anything – they aren’t supposed to comment – just gave me an odd raised-eyebrow look, which I’m pretty sure isn’t allowed either.
The point is the headless woman was obviously overwhelmed by the magnitude of her responsibilities, lost her head, and couldn’t remember the simplest thing, like sending out important emails in a timely fashion. Enough said.
Sept. 25, 2008
The Powerball is up to $200 million, which means every desperate soul in America will be buying a ticket in hopes of salvaging college for the kids and maybe retiring before age 85. Well, our chance of winning is as good as anyone else’s…blah, blah, blah.
Regarding the bizarre episode in which 8-year-old Maria pinned grapefruit to my bedroom wall [blog readers: see “The Sixties Again”], when I saw her this week I asked for an explanation. Apparently it had something to do with wanting to get her ears pierced, although the details are a little obscure. Nevertheless, it makes sense. In a grotesque sort of way.