Hello all!
Sorry it's been so long since I've been in contact, but you all know it's been a tough adjustment for us all (myself, Darlene, our dog, Taco, and our unusually-confrontational son, Helen) since having hit the Powerball jackpot of $152 Million ($102 Million after greedy Uncle Sam took his share.) Rest assured, I'll try to get you up to speed.
We've received your congratulatory letters, or, as Darlene and I like to call them, your underhanded attempts at beggary, and I must say you should try walking in our shoes before being so overtly green (or congratulatory, as you like to call it.) This sudden adjustment we've been forced to make has not been an easy one. There is so much that you take for granted when you're broke and living in your dilapidated houses. We've had to learn to accept our (mis)fortunes as we go. Please indulge me while I try to educate you.
First of all, once we hit the money Darlene mentioned that we should probably buy a new house.
"Frank!" she said. "Let's get out of this two-horse shit-show and find some nicer digs!"
She said it should be something "bigger than all of our friends' houses". I obliged and peeled myself from my comfortable couch and Absolutely Fabulous! marathon on Comedy Central to do the bidding of the love of my life (to whom I've promised my undying loyalty unless the new girl I decide to proposition is hotter than her, or only slightly less hot than her but at least five years younger). I knew right then that our lives would never be the same. Once on the road we went from the podunk trailer we rented on the outskirts of Knoxville to the ritzier parts of Tennessee filled with glorious colonial-style homes with immaculate lawns that seemed to never end only until another mansion appeared. These houses would suffice just fine, thought I, as Darlene and I had never talked about getting a larger home before we became rich. On the contrary, Darlene's tastes for the finer things, the grandiose, had seemed to change overnight. It seemed as if her entire personality had changed completely. Alas, she is the love of my life and bearer of my dim-witted child, so I agreed to go to Beverly Hills where we could find a home that, as Darlene so eloquently put it, "doesn't look like a goddamn life-sized Barbie house".
I agreed to compromise with Darlene and said that we could go to Beverly Hills but we would purchase one of the more modestly priced homes that could be found there. So we settled on our $15 million estate, once owned by such high profile stars as Leif Garret and Patrick Duffy. I took my seat on our overpriced leather sofa in the hopes of living out my dream of becoming an over-weight couch-potato. No rest for the weary though.
Darlene said we needed new cars to match our new home. So we bought some high-priced sports cars. Then she said we should get a maid for the house and a nanny for 11-year-old Helen, our beautiful son who is also living proof that abortion is not 100% effective.
I told her I would do the interviewing for both positions. Another roadblock. Good maids and nannies are hard to find, let me tell you. The first maid I interviewed was a beautiful girl with a great figure (only slightly less good looking than Darlene, my beautiful and forgiving wife). But that's where her good qualities ended. After the first day of the trial run I returned from my money-counting seminar to find her sitting her lazy ass on MY leather sofa. Meanwhile, Helen had sneaked to the attic where he thought he'd discovered the worlds largest reserve of pink cotton candy. I could understand why a child might be confused, given the paper coating had a picture of The Pink Panther on it. I found him passed out on the attic floor after an hour of searching. That's probably something the nanny should've prevented so I fired her lazy ass right after I slept with her and paid her the pre-negotiated $20,000. I then headed to the emergency room with Helen, where he had his stomach pumped, after which the doctor told him he could eat all the spicy food he wanted because his stomach was now completely fireproof ! For every problem, a silver lining, I guess.
The hunt for a maid fared no better. After reading what I could manage of her resume I called her for an interview. She seemed to only know one English phrase, a very broken "No speaky Engleesh".
How long have you been a maid? "No speaky Engleesh"
Are you capable of cleaning? "No speaky Engleesh"
Do you have any references? "Maria"
Maria who? "Si, Maria"
Maria who? "No speaky Engleesh"
I told her the position had been filled and she smiled awkwardly as I handed her a check for ten thousand dollars. Her smile turned to a look of utter confusion as I unzipped my pants but it only took a little while for her to understand what the check was for. Getting her to leave afterwards was an even bigger problem! The language barrier really became an issue. But after many "You go now or I call Immigracion!"s I finally was able to push her out the door. I knew being rich couldn't be as easy as the Kardashians made it look. Oh what cruel fate!
Little Helen has fared none the better in his attempt to get comfortable in his new surroundings. Literally. Each night Darlene and I can hear him tossing and turning in his bed, moaning and groaning. I understand his plight, as it is very difficult to get comfortable on a money-filled mattress and pillow. Furthermore, The Beverly Hills Institute of Things That Are Studied has discovered that the $100 bills we use (as opposed to the cheaper albeit more comfortable $20 and $10 bills) have been proven to be the least comfortable bills, their folds being the most jagged. I know what you're thinking: Why don't you get rid of that mattress? Well we've thought of that but you guys in the poor-house obviously don't understand that the only thing holding up the Money-Mat Mattress is the solid gold box-spring (we chose them from the Gilded Gods collection), which is nearly impossible to find any comfort in! So, unfortunately, that's something we'll have to learn to deal with seeing as how there aren't any other style mattresses available in this part of the country.
Well, that's all for now, folks. I hope I've given you a good look at how tough being shamefully rich can be. Please feel free to send us any mail you'd like, updating us on what your families are up to these days. We'll make sure our attorneys read each and every one of them to make sure they're important enough to relate to us. I know it sounds very snobbish, but now that we have come into this money we have become very important figures who have precious little time to indulge as much as we can in life's most expensive and decadent luxuries. We are sure you will all understand if we don't have time for you.
With Our Warmest Regards
Sincerely,
Frank, Darlene, Helen, and Taco
No comments:
Post a Comment