if i had a million dollars
If I had a million dollars and none of it goes to taxes, Britney Spears couldn’t be happier if she could sing.
You won’t find me donating it to charity… okay maybe a tiny bit to orphanages, what’s a little loose change? I’d make sure those kids go for therapy though, it’s never fun when you are left behind either by death or abandonment. Self-esteem’s got to take some serious knocking.
I’d buy an apartment. With the rising crime rate, I’d be daft to live in a house, seeing as how I don’t plan to get shackled for a good many years. None of those crappy crampy apartments either, but as I am not a very large person (ahem) a good 1200sq would do. Three bedrooms, the master bedroom soundproofed. I like my music loud, you see. I won’t go into decorating plans; think grey substance within the grey mass of the consumerist world.
I’d travel around the world. I know, it’s somewhat cliche to say that these days, but I’d do it. Two years and one big luggage… I don’t need to stay in plush hotels and various expensive accommodations, though the money would mean that I would never find myself lying on flea-infested beds. It also means whatever stuff I buy abroad, I can just Fedex back home. I just want to walk the world.
First stop — Bangkok. Don’t know why, but got to start somewhere and I’ve never been to Thailand before, Bangkok is a good start as any. Then Vietnam, Taiwan, then Hong Kong, then China, though I am not sure if you are allowed in China so soon after visiting Taiwan. Do they have those kind of restrictions as we did about South Africa? Don’t know… Then Korea and Japan… then L.A.
North America, Canada, South America, then on to Africa then Europe.
Then in Amsterdam I’d meet a highly successful diamond smuggler who falls hopelessly in love with me, head over heels and all that. We’d get shacked up for a while, then he gets caught and thrown into prison and I’d move on to Paris to meet a painter who should have stuck to his day job. He’d whisper incomprehensible words of love and it’d take me two months to realise that he really wanted my money, which is not a lot due to the currency exchange and all… but day job, remember? I’d scoff at his face and rip all his paintings coz’ they weren’t good enough to sell anyway.
Of course by this time I’d expect to be seriously fit from all the walking I’d been doing.
Then there’s the small matter of the second heir to the British Empire chasing my skirt but since British men are crap in bed, I’d run to Denmark to burn down their Carlsberg factory. Never say I’m not patriotic…
In Spain I’d eat bulls testicles, in Rome I’d eat Caesar’s salad, in Greece I’d eat Greek lamb. I’d dance the barynya in Russia, kiss a koala bear in Australia and have… err fun with cows in New Zealand. I’d hunt down the best nasi padang in Indonesia.
Then I’d return to Malaysia and two days later I’d be robbed and stabbed and left to die… you know, coz’ things never really change.
Maybe it’s lucky that I do not have a million dollars.
Oh alright, give me two million then.