I Need a Bigger Piggy Bank

Top Notch

Last week my parents invited me to drive out to the Rockwall Hilton and join them for a little cocktail party.  And this time, I did not run over my father.  And I’ve decided that trying to find a fulfilling career, love, and being nice to people was all wrong.  I need to win the lottery!  Then I’ll pack up kitty and move into one of these hotel rooms located on Lake Ray Hubbard. This picture of me by the lighthouse reminded me of something and I couldn’t put my finger on it.  Oh, the other picture my mother took of me by rocks and a lake 3 years ago when I lived in Madison, Wisconsin.  Mom, we have started a tradition that I insist on continuing.  Every 3 years, we must find some kind of rocking lake area and pose me in front of it.  Anyway back to the story………………………………………………

The room had beautiful wood floors and a giant GIANT bathtub with swan towels.  Seriously, it was the biggest bathtub I have ever seen.  Although the hotel did not put them into the kissing position, that was all my handiwork.  I’m not sure why this sold me on winning the lottery to move into this room, because I don’t even take baths.  I like the idea of having the money to pay for someone to perform magical towel origami and surprise me every morning with different animal placed near my shower.

Another reason I’ve decided to throw morals to the wind (not like I had many to begin with) is that if I become a shameless, extravagant, wealthy woman I can always eat my mashed potatoes from a martini glass. The botoxed women at our table who told me to get married in Jamaica also assured me that eating potatoes out of a martini glass is FABULOUS.

The three people were engaged in a conversation at our table that was all name dropping and polite nodding.  ”Do you know Heath?  We live there.”  Other person “Oh FABULOUS.”   I have to admit that the potatoes taste more delicious when they are in a fancy glass.  I think I would feel even more self indulgent if they had been in a pimp cup, or even diamond encrusted martini glass.  The only thing it was missing was a gold ticket to the Wonka factory at the bottom of the glass.

Hilton was throwing the party to bring in group business to the hotel.  Most of the people were actually very nice, despite the amount of plastic surgery.  I wish I’d gotten a picture, but there was one woman who must have Heidi Montag’s doctor.  Her butt was wayyy too high.  Like it looked like it was being held up by puppet strings and her breasts looked like frightening basketballs.  And of course her face–weirdly swollen duck lips.  I had pegged her as my favorite party guest until leopard man. I noticed him while taking a picture of my dad (who has a halo).

I showed my dad the picture of the halo and was like wait, who is that guy behind him.  So I had to get a closer look.  Woah man.  He was a man with an unatural confidence and way too much money. He had on a Louis Vuitton hat, a see through leopard shirt, a wild turquoise belt, some kind of neck turquoise necklace and the best part….leopard clogs.  Oh yesss.  I only saw him for a few minutes because my mother and I went on a walk around the lake and saw tons of adorable puppies, but oh was he FABULOUS.

Later in the night, as I snacked on rock candy sticks, and contemplated a way to turn my student loan debit into pure profit, leopard man came back into my life.  I thought we had parted ways forever and I would never see him again, but there he was.  My dad was obviously amused.  When we came in he was taking photos with the ladies who were working the event.  They were all in boas, and his was bright pink.  Leopard man, you are my hero.  You have wooed me with your sheer fabrics and fancy footwear.  So as I think up a scheme to become insanely rich (I already have the insane part, now I just need the money) I will keep you in mind.  Before I make a decision, I will think to myself “What would leopard man do?”  I think the answer for me lies somewhere between wearing a rebel flag bikini paired light up thigh high stripper boots and owning a $3 beach condo full of Victorian dolls where I snort my dead cat’s ashes so we can always be together (thank you demi moore and drew barrymore).

Dear Leopard man:

How do I turn $80,000 of debit into a fortune?

That is all.  Love,

Merry