If I win the Lotto, I will…

1. send my daddy to the states for medical treatment, just like in the teleseryes and the movies where the rich families send the rich dads to The States for the super serious medical condition consultation. We’ll fly first class because we wouldn’t want the masikip flights of the budget airlines. The mention of Budget Airlines will make us shudder by the time we’re swimming in cashes.

2. buy my male girlfriend the latest iPhone. 50 pieces. Then he’d go in to the buy-and-sell business and make a profit which might one day be our safety net if and when I get stupid with the rest of my winnings.

3. not buy friendship. Maybe I’ll treat some of them to beer-all-you can binges or Thai dinner buffets in honor of my unbelievable luck, but I promise I won’t one day bitch about it should the same silly luck befall them and they refuse to do the same, or if they refuse to treat me like royalty after I shower them with my tremendous riches. I will of course act like a King (or Queen) after I win the lotto as is my right, but only in private.

4. see Radiohead in Taiwan this July, so I better win soon.

5. launch a lugaw business and really invest in it. Since I have quite a distaste for chichi concept overpriced restos that have minimalist decor, I’ll make sure my lugaw business is tasteful and tacky in all the right places but still super good. I will most certainly not market it as a fusion-something of the old and the modern lugaw. I will most certainly not call it Le Leugaw or something vomitty like that. I will buy out of the fancy ass Greenbelt 3 diners and represent. Maybe I’ll just buy Greenbelt 3.

6. resign and buy at least 25% of my employer. For kicks.

7. buy 100% of MRT and sell it to the Philippine Government at a discount, and expect (foolishly) that something good will come out of it.

8. hire the best goddam financial advisor in the whole world.

9. pay off my life insurance and since I’m flush, get death insurance too, for my kids that I will have or adopt from the sinking island of Tuvalu, kids that I will call Lestat, Trip or Christina Aguilera.

10. make Vicky Belo do something to my skin.

11. invest in Raymond Lee films.

12. see Florence & the Machine, Madonna concerts.

13. house, condo, car, boy-servant.

13. donate to charity, ie the Fresh Air Fund and Camp Mariah. Local charities too, sure. I’ll donate but I won’t ever blab about the amount ever because together with my newly earned riches, comes classiness.

14. build the sickest library.

15. go to New York and buy penthouse. Which reminds me, buy all season of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and maybe, just maybe, all the CDs, DVDs and books that my heart ever desired. Just maybe!

16. work out all day every damn day, hire the hunkiest fitness trainer who I MIGHT SHARE.

17. not post the amount of my winnings in the blog and in FB. Just ever so subtly drop hints but never flat out disclose.

18. prove people wrong about the falseness of the statement, ‘Money can’t buy happiness’ because it totally can. Some people just don’t know how and what to buy. Sometimes, too, a person’s richness/poorness is wholly independent of his emotional well-being; rich or poor, a person born sad is just gonna be that way for the rest of his life if he doesn’t know what to buy. Ask a middle-class nine-to-fiver what makes him sufficiently happy just being alive in any given day and he’s likely to answer: a good, long, peaceful massage. Imagine a hundred of that!