Yeah, yeah, yeah…I’ve been slacking with the writing, but I’m going to defend myself and say that I’ve been tied up with Christmas, getting back to work, and my ex-husband holding my children for ransom. True story.
Anyhoo, one of you, and you know who you are, emailed me, asking if I’d secretly won the lottery and had taken off for parts unknown. Another of you emailed asking if I was “Seriously dead or just sitting in an asylum and haven’t earned internet privileges, yet”. I think we can all agree that the second option is far more likely.
Regardless…if any of the following things happen, you’ll know who won the Powerball.
- A huge animal rescue opens, called “Megan’s Big Bitches (and boy dogs, too)”.
- Sully gets to have his balls back. Don’t ask how…it’s just going to happen.
- Underwires? Now unbreakable. You’re welcome.
- Tina Fey is on a lifetime retainer to do this, every time one of my children fails to follow a direction already given fifteen times.
- My new legal name: “Thelonious McWhiskeydick”.
- An army of drones will follow Donald Trump to all public events, dropping piles of dildos on him.
- Unicorns become an actual fucking thing.
- Ryan is now at the helm of a privately owned newspaper, whose only purpose is to campaign for increased teacher salaries and talk about how sexually inadequate all my exes were.
- This blog starts delivering chocolate bars, Willy Wonka style.
10. Oprah Winfrey names me one of her new favorite things.