Or, you could just kill yourself.

About a month ago, I bought my first lottery ticket.

I have never been a "lotto" person. However, recently, in my personal bag of luck, playing lotto started to look smarter than, say, doing my job, or prayer for world peace, or even thinking real hard about how much I didn't want my dad to die. Also, the activity of "giving it my all" and "persevering" started to have agreeable symmetry with "smashing thyself in the face with a hammer."

$5 at the local bodega started to look so.... what-the-fuck-ever.

To date, I have spent $80. Am I ashamed? No.

I would have been, say, three years ago, when the world was flat and my dad was well and jesus loved me. But now? Nah. Not so much. Pigs fly. Cold day in hell. Or HOT DAY IN OCTOBER... if you happen to live in New York City. Point is: I no longer have much regard for fairness or the weather forecast or good sense.

Don't judge me.



I will find out tomorrow how much it is (or is not worth).

YO! LOLA! Drinks on me at Mustang, yo.