I don’t think I am given to masochism more than your average me. Remember that scab? Don’t.
Do you play the lottery? I rarely do. Not because I don’t want to. But because I forget and miss the deadline. Like tonight. It was more important to me to fill the hole in my son’s stomach than winning millions. Anyway, he does not approve of my gambling. What do you mean? Gamble? It’s hardly Monte Carlo, is it, marking six boxes, handing over a pound for a little hope and adrenaline in exchange? In fact, and as an aside, my mother has this down to a fine art: She’ll play and, for days on end, wont’ check the numbers, thus extending her pleasure of hope.
What would you do? You had that hunch. You tried to get on the lottery’s website two minutes before deadline. You abandon mission for good reason (see above): Do you later check the numbers? Do you? Would you?
If you are me you will [check those unplayed numbers]. To do so you need nerves of steel. There must have been three times in my life when, by way of inverse perversion, hyperventilating, I wished with all my heart that my intended numbers would NOT come up. Because if they had what’s the choice? Shoot myself? Better men than me have shot themselves over less. Not given to suicide I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. It’s beyond the limits of my imagination: What does one do when, instead of putting on the water for pasta, you could have placed those numbers? I don’t know. I do not wish to know. And I hope I’ll never find out.
What’s your favourite number? I’ll play it. Please don’t say Zero, Looney. It’s got to be 1-49. If we get it right what a party that’ll be.
U
I tried the lottery two or three times in its early days and rapidly concluded that it was a waste of time and the chances of winning were about as likely as growing a pair of breasts. I watch the hopeful punters buying their tickets in the newsagent and I just wonder how much money they’ve wasted that could have been used to buy something tangible and pleasurable instead of a piece of paper.
Comment by Nick — January 22, 2012 @ 09:13 |
Thanks for your “support”, Nick. You sound like the Angel.
Obviously the maths doesn’t add up. No doubt that if I had kept a tally from the beginning I might have opted for a pair of Louboutins instead (the red sole to die for). However, if you think about it: How much money do we spend on the totally inconsequential? Just as you shake your head at me and my lottery ticket, in that same queue at the newsagent I pity those who, in my opinion, throw away money at, say, a Mars Bar. Leaving aside that I don’t have a sweet tooth so it’s easy for me to talk, once that Mars Bar has been eaten all the guy is left with is an empty wrapper. You know where this is heading, Nick, don’t you? We could, and I am tempted, spin this out into some mind blowing philosophical discussion.
I buy myself a gambler’s thrill, that’s all.. And believe me it’s cheaper than Poker. And you don’t need to remember any rules and keep your face straight (which is why, on both counts, I am hopeless at Poker).
May I add that on Friday (Euro Millions, and I never ever play Euro Millions so what possessed me I do not know) for a stake of £2.00 I got £4.70 back, leaving me £2.70 better off. If you just look at it in percentage terms the return on my investment is not to be sneered at. Obviously £2.70 won’t buy you the world or, for that matter, much else but I still felt lucky.
Anyway, Nick, what’s your number? Your preferred choice between 1 and 49?
Let’s play.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — January 22, 2012 @ 10:44 |
I’m sure I’m equally guilty of spending money on the inconsequential – especially food like chocolate bars, biscuits and cakes. It’s a wonder I’m not seriously fat. No, there’s no way I could work up a gambler’s thrill on a lottery ticket. Taking a Costa Crociere cruise would be quite a gamble though….
I have no favourite number between 1 and 49. They’re all adorable, every single one of them.
Comment by Nick — January 23, 2012 @ 20:07 |
Nick, you don’t exactly commit, do you? Keeping all balls up in the air.
Other than that: I’d pay – through my nose – not to have to go on a cruise. Having slight tendency to claustrophobia just put me in a lift – stuck between floors 12 and 14. Minus the water.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — January 23, 2012 @ 20:30 |
The greatest part of the Lottery is planning what you’re going to do with the millions you will never win because you do not play.
As for my number…I just hope it’s not up yet. but try 17. No reason …just try it!
Comment by magpie11 — January 22, 2012 @ 12:07 |
Seven it is.
Comment by winsomebella — January 22, 2012 @ 14:07 |
I lost 10 cents in a machine in Las Vegas. That ended my gambling. When we went to breakfast I saw a woman sitting on the curb in her evening dress, crying. The shows & food were good & really cheap back then.
I don’t buy tickets in raffles either.
Comment by bikehikebabe — January 22, 2012 @ 19:22 |
I occassionally buy tickets, but usually forget to check them. I guess I assume I’ll hear about it if our local lottery station gets the winning number. Then I will definitely check the numbers.
Comment by writingfeemail — January 23, 2012 @ 03:07 |
My favorite number is 5. If it wins you anything as good as it did me, then prepare yourself for a fun-filled several months of cheering and hopping up and down in a short skirt and tight sweater. It twas the number I was wearing when I got picked to be on the cheer leading squad. I didn’t even want to be a cheer leader, but my friends were trying out and wanted me to try out, too. So I did. I couldn’t do a split or a flip or a cartwheel. But I was blonde and had big ta-tas that looked very cheerful when I jumped up and down, which I could do. It was the first time I ever got picked for anything competitive in the athletic supporter department. 5 is a special number!
Comment by Lorna's Voice — January 23, 2012 @ 16:28 |
My favorite number is 5 also. I always wanted a fat butt & 5 was the number that reminded me most of that. (You’re the only person I’ve to which I’ve ever told that.)
Comment by bikehikebabe — January 23, 2012 @ 17:14 |
I changed the wording here & left too many I’ve-s. I didn’t want to end sentence with – to (dangling preposition), ‘I’ve ever told that to’.
Comment by bikehikebabe — January 23, 2012 @ 17:20 |
Huh. Ending a sentence in a preposition, and then editing it.
“This is the sort of bloody nonsense up with which I will not put.”
~W Churchill~
Comment by Phil — January 23, 2012 @ 18:20 |
Phil, one thing you have to know about Bike Hike Babe aka Cynthia that she will blind you with innocence. Which is why she gets away with a five when she should be a ten.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — January 23, 2012 @ 19:18 |
Phil, if you read carefully, I did NOT end my sentence with a preposition. What you saw was the example — ‘I’ve ever told that to’ — which I edited with the “which” so as not to end with a preposition. Now are you totally confused?
Comment by bikehikebabe — January 23, 2012 @ 21:12 |
I understood, but was teasing you nonetheless at the outcome of the correction – pretty much like Churchill was teasing his editor. And to answer your question, yes I am totally confused. That however, is a perpetual state of my mind whenever I come over here and read this blog.
Comment by Phil — January 23, 2012 @ 21:42 |
LOL you are so cute, Phil !
I’m confused, can’t think of words quickly, forget what I just did, where I put it… I blame it on age.
Comment by bikehikebabe — January 23, 2012 @ 22:56 |
I just remembered. It was Christmas time & crowded at the grocery store. I ran with an added item, but Tom had just finished checking out. A w oman yelled, “Get your fat ass to the back of the line!” I was DELIGHTED.
Comment by bikehikebabe — January 26, 2012 @ 01:51 |
That comment was suppose to be after my favorite number comment, fat-butt 5.
Comment by bikehikebabe — January 26, 2012 @ 01:55 |
Seems like everyone is picking and giving you a lot of low numbers. In the interest of statistical balance, let’s pick one in the 40′s. How about 41?
Comment by Phil — January 23, 2012 @ 18:38 |
Phil, dear sweet Phil. You have taken a sinking load of my scales which are now balanced. Thank you.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — January 23, 2012 @ 19:15 |
This is me. Not really. I can’t sing but it’s me anyhow.
Comment by bikehikebabe — January 25, 2012 @ 20:41 |
OPPS! That was suppose to be a link. I didn’t know it would turn into a full blown video.
Comment by bikehikebabe — January 25, 2012 @ 20:50 |
Now you’ve got me curious. Does Ursula frown upon embedded Youtube videos on her comment section even more than she does smilies?
Comment by Phil — January 25, 2012 @ 21:08 |
Comment by bikehikebabe — January 26, 2012 @ 00:45 |