If I were a rich man

A few days ago I had a dream. I was sitting behind the counter at work (the Mobil Station on 7th & Market) and the weather was just warm enough that it coaxed my eyes closed. As I leaned on my fist, and allowed my body to relax, my mind began to wander.

All of a sudden I saw myself in a field of daisies, casually chatting with Dalmatian puppy.

Lying on her tummy, paws crossed in front of her, she asked, “Joe, what would you do with a billion dollars?”

So I thought for a minute, and then I came up with a list of the Top 5 Things I’d do with One Billion Dollars:

i heart you slurpee!!!!!

1. Buy a house: Real Estate is one of the most sound investments you can make. Hey, the rich don’t stay rich by misspending their money! So I’d look for something humble–a little chateau-style mansion in Southern Georgia, no larger than 80,000 square feet. Two Olympic sized pools in the living room, and an indoor badminton court. I’d have a kitchen on all 12 floors, and install a Slurpee machine in at least six of those. I’d probably decorate in pre-war, French-Canadian style, with themed bedrooms dedicated to the Top-100 Grossing Films of All Time. Naturally I’d outfit the house with a wait staff that would attend to all my needs. I think a ratio of 5 servants to every regular person makes sense.

i'ma throw some rims on this beezie!

2. Own my dream car: A John Deere 5625 Utility Tractor (99 hp). I’ve had my eye on this beauty for a few hours now, and the thought of seeing it parked on the lawn in front of my chateau is making me salivate! She’s got two forward and two rear ROPS-mounted turn signal/warning lights, a climate-controlled cab, PowerTech™ 4-cylinder diesel engine, an electrohydraulic three-point hitch, and SO MUCH MORE! I’m gonna have to bat the ladies off with a stick in this monster.

3. Get a Wife: I hear you can order them from other countries, which is pretty convenient because I’m not really a talker. A language barrier can be sexy! As long as she doesn’t beat me nightly with a strand of sausages. I think it could work. Happily Ever After, right?

don't shoot!

4. Purchase a Panda: I figure since I’ll have a billion dollars, I can probably pay a scientist or zookeeper to hook me up with one of these. I’ll do my research, get the latest edition of Pandas for Dummies on Amazon, and grow a eucalyptus garden in my backyard. Naturally I’d prefer a baby panda, so when I bring it home I can paint dark circles around my eyes and it’ll think I’m its mom and develop an unnatural attachment to me. It would crawl around the house, mess up every room, and cause total pandemonium! Then when he/she turns one year old, we’ll celebrate his/her pandaversary with a trip to the ice skating rink. I’d let him/her host tea parties, and movie nights. I’d let him/her invite friends over for camp-outs, and tell them ghost stories around the fire. If the Panda is diabetic, we’d roast eggplant instead of s’mores, and we’d drink mud instead of juice made of high fructose corn syrup. When he/she turns 21 I’ll book a bunch of rooms at the Excalibur Hotel in Las Vegas, and we’ll party like rock stars. We might see Cirque du Sole, or the Blue Man Group–whatever my baby wants, my baby gets. It’ll be so great.

5. Keep my swimming pools constantly stocked with the tears of children: If you’ve never swam in the fresh tears of young children, I highly recommend it. Young tears have a salinity level that is just ideal for the skin. I take a 10 minute dip in the pool, and I feel like a 12-year-old all over again! Of course, acquiring said tears is not easy, nor is it cheap. I source them through a South American exporter, who does not tell me how he’s able to fly 10,000 gallons of children’s tears up to my chateu within 48 hours of me placing an order. Every single time.