Yet Again I Fail to Win the Lottery

descant
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

I am in a lottery pool. Why yes, I am bad at math, why do you ask? It's my very own tax! Yay! I know, but, look, being in a lottery pool makes my chances of winning go from infinitesimal to infinitesimally less infinitesimal, in that we're playing more numbers each week for the same investment. So far, Susan and Jodi and Audrey and Linda and I are the only players, but we are anticipating more buy in soon. Of course, when we eventually win we'll have to split the proceeds, at which point we will all probably go from being the best of friends to bitter enemies overnight, but we'll save that drama to be relished later, when the shouting starts - "No! One yacht is no longer enough! I must have TWO yachts and you? You deserve only half a yacht! Half a yacht for you, you ignorant slut!"

Anyway, we have been in this pool for a month or two now, ever since we were sitting around at Broadways feeling broke and bitter and cold, those three little adjectives that sum up so much of my life. That was when I insisted that Susan begin this lottery pool she had been talking about ever since her third cousin won big with a pool in West Virginia. Frankly, that part worries me, because I feel that if you even know anyone vaguely, like, say, your third cousin's best friend's hairdresser's mother in law, who won the lottery, than, on the lightening never strikes twice theorem, your own chances to win immediately go to nil. I recognize that there may be a flaw in this logic somewhere, but part of me believes it strongly. Whatever, though, I put superstition aside, because I dearly want to win the fucking thing and I'm never going to get around to actually buying the tickets and doing it by myself. No, what happens with me is I buy lottery tickets and forget that I have them, but Susan is organized and she goes off to Gas Up or BJs (terms of the pool dictate spreading our lottery buy out a bit, just as part of the terms of the Great West Asheville BJs vs. Gas Up Peace Treaty of 2006) and gets them twice a week and then even checks the winning numbers and everything. So far we have not matched one number, not one, which seems to me to be a statistical feat in itself that probably deserves a pity prize from the Lottery Commission, but I doubt they share my views.

Therefore, when I saw on Twitter that the Powerball winning ticket was sold in Asheville, I was sure it had to be us. Alack and alas, though, the news soon escaped that that ticket was sold at the Wilco that's practically in Candler and I know that Susan rarely ventures out that way. Neither do I, for that matter, although I think I have been to that Wilco once, but it was several years ago before we even had a lottery. And so it was: yet again we didn't match a single number and somebody in Candler won, making our chances go down even further. But, well, lightening can strike twice and what the hell, the pool continues. I need that lottery win: it's my retirement plan.

In other news, Audrey's cat can apparently dematerialize and rematerialize at will, which is cool; we came in second - by ONE POINT - at Quizzo last night, which is cooler; and over the weekend I cleaned up Teenage Wasteland and hooked up my ancient stereo to giant 1970s speakers, thus making the entire house shake to old, old Genesis, which is coolest.