Apologies to Anna
My poor best friend Anna was inadvertently left out of my Lotto Fantasy. She complained bitterly this morning, which sounded even worse with her laryngitis.
She sounds just like the burger flipping teen who works in Krusty's Hamburger's on the Simpsons.
So, if I won the Lotto, which I didn't, here's what I'd have gotten for poor, pitiful Anna.
I'd get that hole she put in her brand new Benz fixed.
I'd get her even more of those $300 Prada casual shoes she likes.
I'd get the ladder in her lavish home library revarnished.
I'd pay her pool man, gardener, nanny and maid for a year.
I'd upgrade her frequent flights abroad to "Goddess" Seats.
I'd have someone else run the N.Y. Marathon for her so she could rest.
I'd pay a hypnotist to convince her her size 8 ass is not at all fat.
I'd bail out the country of Ethiopia so she didn't have to.
I'd take her to Vegas and let her have all the 79¢ shrimp cocktails she wanted.
I feel bad about omitting her from my Lotto fantasy. Clearly, she is a woman who needs so many things, and I'd be more than happy to provide them for her if I won.
Sorry, pal. I was a beast to forget you.