If I ever win the lottery, I’m not going to tell anyone about it.
Parents, brother: okay, you can know.
Everyone else: sorry, but it’s okay. There will be indicators. Read on.
1. I will begin construction on a family compound.
Big plot of land, several houses. Separate houses. I love my family, but there’s a limit. Compound would also include a guest house for friends….if you’re ever invited to “the ranch,” odds are good Julie’s come into some money.
2. I will arrange to anonymously give my family and friends stuff I think they need.
You might log into your account with your lender and see the balance is zero… Or maybe when you wake up one morning your front porch will be filled with a variety of superfluous gift baskets filled with the kind of items no one buys for themselves but secretly covets, mainly: anything that’s ever been As Seen On TV. As you slice open leather shoes with your new Yoshi Blade, think of me.
And yes, leather shoes will be included in the basket.
3. My wardrobe will slightly change.
You will say “That is a cute pair of sparkly sneakers!” And I will say “Thanks, they’re from Target.” And you will say “That top is cute, too.” And I will say, “Thanks, it’s from Target.” And you will get the picture.
4. I will redecorate.
Maybe I haven’t won enough to build a set of new homes. Maybe I’m still living in my little apartment. But I will invite you over for a Cheez-it and Sangria party and you will see that there is now a Skee-Ball machine where the couch used to be.
Also, a spread containing every variety of Cheez-it available in this country.
You are now asking yourself Why wouldn’t she tell me that she won the lottery? We are Bestest Friends! We begin phone conversations calling each other derogatory names for women! We have known each other for years! We have held each others hair while we puked up “punch” that was 97% tequila and 3% ice! How could she not tell me?
To be honest, this is for purely selfish reasons. If I came into goo-gobs of money (a Juanita term), there would truly be part of me that would want to help out everybody I know and I’d be so guilt-ridden and anxious about not being able to give money to every single person that my winnings would end up being spent on rhinoceros-strength benzodiazepines that have been banned by the FDA.
When the alternative is all-you-can eat Cheez-its and unlimited Skee-ball, I think you’ll come to respect my decision.
a mock-up of my living room, apres lottery. note the current location of the couch (indicated by an arrow) and its replacement
the sloppy copy 