I estimate that I spend roughly 200 hours a year either traveling to or from work. That may seem like a lot to some people, while for others that seems like nothing. I grew up in Chicago, and when people in Phoenix complain about traffic I want to punch them in the spleen. Phoenix traffic delays are trivial while Chicago traffic delays are epic, lifelong disasters. For instance, in Chicago you’ll be driving down the highway on your way to work when you’ll notice a very large orange sign that reads, “To serve you better, the Illinois Department of Transportation announces infrastructure improvements to the Dan Ryan expressway. Traffic delays expected from January, 2012 through March, 2921.” And just like that, your life is ruined. What they should really put on the sign is, “We’re tearing the fuck out of this road, you won’t be able to get anywhere in less than a day for the remainder of your life and since this is taxpayer funded, YOU paid for it. BUWAHAHAHAHAHA! What an asshole! Fuck you! Sincerely, IDOT.”
So I don’t mind my commute. It’s fairly relaxing and it gives me time to think about things. Random, stupid things, sure, but I’ve found that those are the most entertaining things to think about. For instance, lately I’ve been thinking that I really need to be rich. Not McMansion rich, mind you, but obscenely, grotesquely, holy-shit-that-dude-gold-plated-his-butler kind of rich. Unfortunately the type of person who is likely to amass that sort of wealth is the sort of person who works extremely hard, discusses corporate mergers, and invests money in precious metals and stock options.
That is NOT the kind of person I am, and so I’m unlikely to be as rich as I need to be. And that’s not just a shame for me, it’s a shame for humanity at large because I’d be the entertaining kind of rich guy that everyone loves. For instance, let’s say I was walking in a park and came across a kid crying about his lost dog. I would instantly spring into action, hiring the best private investigators, pet detectives, and psychics to track this dog down and shoot him in the head for being such an insensitive prick. Bad boy! Making your poor owner cry like that. Bad boy! (BANG!)
That’s the kind of rich guy I’d be. Like if I saw a woman standing on a street corner who wanted to party and needed some money, I’d help her out. [Editor’s wife’s note: Like hell!] I would buy congressmen, senators, and even the President if necessary in order to pass a minimum Blood Alcohol Content law, then require everyone to drive bumper cars everywhere. And sure I’d have a few people killed, but I’d be cool about it and make sure everyone got something out of it. Who wouldn’t get a kick out of seeing Bill Cosby get sent over Niagara Falls while strapped to a giant pink butt-plug?
But while spontaneously wasting money would be tremendously entertaining, I’d put some thought into some things. Like throwing a giant Dogs On Drugs party. I’ve thought this out thoroughly while in traffic this last week, and let me tell you something, it would be a fucking blast. Will there be good people? Hell yes, there will be good people, and to ensure that the party is limited exclusively to good people, security will be hired to eject anyone who uses any of the following terms or phrases:
- My Beemer
- I’m running for office
- Too much nudity
- Do you have any light beer?
And speaking of light beer, you may be asking yourself if there will be drinking. There will be light drinking, medium drinking, beer drinking, cocktail drinking, shot drinking, body shot drinking, spontaneous drinking, coordinated drinking, upside down drinking, secret drinking, heavy drinking, blackout drinking, and much, much more.
Will kids be allowed? Sure, although to be honest, given the amount of drinking going on, we’re probably going to wind up with less kids after all is said and done. Luckily, with all the drinking going on there will probably be some replacement kids on the way, if you catch my drift.
What about music? I’m glad you asked, because I need a little help here. My first thought was to hire Babymetal, which regular readers will recognize from my post on Monday. The only problem is that I don’t think I’ll be able to book them, simply because I’m sure that this exchange would take place:
Translator: The wealthy American says he would like to hire our scantily clad 13 year old girls for a big drinking contest.
Babymetal Manager: This is a serious request?
Translator: Probably, although he sounds quite drunk
Babymetal Manager: Let us continue to appease him while I call Interpol.
So I’d probably wind up in prison, and fuck that because they’ve got the wrong kind of bars in there. There are other options available to us such as…
Yes! Mini Kiss! The best Kiss tribute act entirely consisting of members “with a form of dwarfism”! I’ll be honest with you, I fucking hate Kiss. But Mini Kiss? I am so all over that shit. Sadly, Joey Fatale (aka Mini Demon) passed away this last August and so Mini Kiss remains forever beyond our reach. Maybe if the remaining members reform as a trio, say Mini Cream or Mini Rush.
Who else… Oh! There’s always Nudist Priest!
But I don’t know, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for a bunch of naked dudes belting out Screaming for Vengeance in my home, plus they retired in 2007 (one would assume to a life of living with clothes). We could go with Fat Benetar:
I don’t know, if Babymetal and Mini Kiss are out of the picture, my heart’s not that into it. Of course some of you may be thinking, “Greg, if you’re filthy rich, why don’t you get a good band to play for you?” Oh, I’m not above paying good money for a good band. For instance, I imagine conversations like this will be commonplace around my house:
Friend: Dude, is that Styx’s tour bus out front?
Me: Yeah, I got hungry so I hired Styx to make me a roast beef sandwich.
But as far as a band to play the official Dogs On Drugs party? It has to be a very, very special band, one that (apparently) must consist of 13 year olds or Little People, or ideally 13 year old Little People. What do you guys think? Any ideas?