Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!

Please accept my humble apologies for the lack of blog post today. You see, I won lotto last night. Crap loads of lotto. Therefore, today I am busy doing the following: - Ordering the most expensive, flashy vehicle I can get my hands on within a week - Funeralising Not a Mini Van  - Donating large sums to charities of my choice. As much about offsetting the guilt as it is a   philanthropic gesture. - Buying every overseas call center that has ever done me wrong and changing their call lists to only   numbers in their own countries, and amending their rosters so they are only working over the   witching hour / dinner preparation, meal times, during the News, and Grey's Anatomy, Raising Hope   and Modern Family. Or any culturally significant programs that are important to them. - Paying off the mortgage - Setting fire to the vacant block of land now that it's ours and we can do whatever we want with   it.  Also, to destroy the piles of crap that others keep dumping on it because they're too lazy to   store / ditch their own crap. - Finding the poshest house in the poshest suburb to move in and de-value the area - Enrolling Miss6 in the wankiest private school around (admittedly, that would be the boarding school   that I attended...so at least there'll be no waiting list). - Double checking that she will have a private room while she boards there. Despite the fact that I   will likely be living within walking distance. - Booking the Twin Tornado into an equally elitist and wanky Kindergarten.  Also one that allows   boarders.  And feeds them nothing but healthy shit that they're indoctrinated to eat.  So that when   I do occasionally visit them or take them home for a few hours, I can spoil them with treats and   they'll still love me despite dumping them in boarding school at age 3, and I won't have to feel guilty   since I'll know they've eaten nothing but corn fed, farm bred, free range, organic, rain forest   alliance certified shiz and my one or two meals of Macca's will not damage them in any way. Or   stunt their growth. - Cutting a deal with #1Hubby.  This shouldn't be too difficult, as custody won't be an issue (as in   fighting over who has to have the kids solo for the longest time) thanks to boarding schools.  It's   not that I'm desperate to divorce #1Hubby, but now that I'm filthy rich I can afford to swan around   the same circles as Wentworth Miller.  And since he's still kinda B Grade, he'll be happy to be my arm   candy and lap up the lifestyle that my wealth affords, that he kind of sort of got a taste of thanks   to Prison Break, but hasn't really been able to maintain since the morons in TV land are the only   people not to be blinded by his beauty and throw multiple Emmy Award Winning roles his way. - Purchasing the Emmy Award Winning TV series' for my new man to star in. - Booking him extensive therapy to convince him that he is not gay, and he really truly finds me   genuinely and insatiably attractive. - Booking the world's foremost Plastic Surgeon for a month, for the following:
   * Butt reduction    * Butt lift    * Butt exchange (when the previous 2 don't meet my expectations)    * Boob lift    * Boob job. But nothing Jordan-esque    * Eye lift    * Eye recolouration. I always wanted blue eyes    * Chemical facial peel. Let's just start from scratch, right?     * Full face lift     * Girly parts reconstruction.  Again, let's just start from scratch, right?     * Lips inbetween their current thin, drawn, sad status and a trout pout. Ange's lips will do.    * Thigh suck and tuck    * Permanent body hair removal so that I never ever have to do any of it again. Also, having it    done while I'm knocked out means I don't have to squeal like a pig when the hair is ripped from    my body.    * Teeth whitening.  My teeth are pretty good, but they're not Hollywood blinding, and I feel that    my new Barbie Doll self will not be complete unless the faux whiteness of my teeth blinds people.    * De-frizzification of my hair.  Permanent like.  Don't care how they do it or what animal must piss    on my head for it to happen.  Just do it while I'm knocked out and all the other procedures are    taking place.    * De-bark my snore.  It's all well and good being dead sexy and sharing a bed with Wentworth    Miller, but unless I am de-snored, my only other option is to deafen him.  Which seems a little bit    extreme, right?    * Fix my back. Damned if I know what's wrong with it. I think it's something to do with lugging the    Twin Tornado around for 9 months. Selfish bastards.    * Up my IQ.  I just know the world's foremost Plastic Surgeon can also do that.  Partial brain    transplant I expect. So, as you can see, I am far too busy arranging to flaunt my newly acquired excessive wealth in everyone's collective faces to write a blog post. In fact, I am going to see what Woogsworld will charge me to take over as my Ghost Writer.  Since I'll be far too busy swilling Cristal and swapping wassup's with P Diddy to take time out to write future posts. Sigh. If only. PS - There's a reason I've switched back to Wentworth Miller.  George Clooney has not been forgotten, but that's a whole other blog post....