January 16, 2011
A blonde finds herself in serious trouble. Her business
has gone bust and she’s in dire financial straits. She’s
so desperate that she decides to ask God for help. She
begins to pray… “God, please help me. I’ve lost my
business and if I don’t get some money, I’m going to lose
my house as well. Please let me win the lotto.”
Lotto night comes, and somebody else wins it.
She again prays… “God, please let me win the lotto!
I’ve lost my business, my house and I’m going to lose my
car as well.” The Lotto night comes and she still has no
uck.
Once again, she prays… “My God, why have You forsaken me?
I’ve lost my business, my house, and my car. My children
are starving. I don’t often ask You for help, and I have
always been a good servant to You.
PLEASE let me win the lotto just this one time so I can get
my life back in order.”
Suddenly there is a blinding flash of light as the heavens
open. The blonde is overwhelmed by the Voice of God Himself…
”Sweetheart, work with Me on this… Buy a ticket.”
I like to think of myself as an antisocial butterfly. I certainly know how to make friends, talk to people and, generally, be the life of the party. I am not a dull person. If I am at a social function, I am not the girl in the corner, nursing a drink and looking uncomfortable. And yet, I don't like going out as much as I used to.
I am a homebody at heart. I prefer to stay at home with a good book and maybe a bottle of wine. I like watching movies with the kids til the wee hours. I don't mind going to sleep early on a Friday night if my body demands it. If given the choice between party and home these days, sadly, I would pick home nine times out of ten. Unfortunately, men don't usually come knocking at my door and say, “Hi, my name is So-and-So, and I'd like to ask you out on a date. Whaddayasay?”
New York City Lotto uses a catchy slogan for buyers: You've gotta be in it to win it. So, like the joke above, I've decided to buy a ticket! I have decided to accept (almost) all invitations thrown at me lately, with the understanding that there are men outside of my door who may be interesting to look at and who may want to know my name.
I mean, let's face it. I spend nine hours at work, one hour commuting. As far as men are concerned, there aren't many candidates at my job, and those who look good are either too young or too married. Besides, I prefer dating someone who earns more than me.
Mind you, even though I grumble and complain when I receive an invitation, I have a great time when I go out with friends. I enjoy the dancing, drinking, loud conversations and jokes. I have a ball. After I get there, that is. Otherwise, it's like going to the beach for me. I hate going to the beach. I love being at the beach, the warm sand and refreshing water. Lying on my towel with a good book. Good times. It's the planning I don't like. Making the commitment, packing the cooler, preparing sandwiches. Finding a good parking spot. Returning home drunk and full of wet sand. I just realized what a disturbing analogy this is to dating, what with the wet sand and all. But you get my point.
In a typical 6/49 game, six numbers are drawn from a range of 49 and if the six numbers on a ticket match the numbers drawn, the ticket holder is a jackpot winner—this is true no matter in which order the numbers appear. The probability of this happening is 1 in 13,983,816. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
How many single women in their fifties do you think are playing lotto tonight?