The Lottery

 

I was searching my mom’s bookcase for a new read. It was a trip down memory lane, so many books I abandoned on one of the moves I made in the last twenty years. I pulled out a book How to Win Lotteries, Sweepstakes, and Contests in the 21st Century. My mom said, “You can have it.”

The book was from 2004 and was a second edition, so I’m not sure how things changed in the first four years of the 21st century, but obviously, I was reading this book. I flipped through the pages, and lucky for me, my mom highlighted all the important parts. I didn’t know we were so alike.

Last summer I read The Power of Positive Thinking and made a set of flashcards to have on hand. My son also has this delusional optimism that the lottery is ours for the taking, evident by him jotting notes while listening to the audiobook Think and Grow Rich.

Last week, I stayed with my parents for a few days while my kids were on vacation with their dad. My mom and I went to TJ Max and Ross and every night my dad would make us dinner.

I secretly check the expiration dates on everything because they won’t. Those dates aren’t even a suggestion to my parents. I’m strategic after noticing they’re trying to feed me something old, and I pretend I don’t have the appetite for it rather than mentioning its toxicity. Refusing to eat salad dressing that expired in 2016, I might as well slap my dad across the face. He is just like his mom, in this way. My older sister Lacey ruined a family dinner one night after spreading the news that my grandma scraped mold off the top of salsa before feeding it to us.

My mom isn’t as sensitive about my adherence to expiration dates, but she thinks it’s dramatic. Of course, I started my period the day I arrived at their house, and forgot to buy tampons when we were out running errands. I told her, and she ran off to grab some she had under the sink.

I flipped the box over and saw the year 2009. Maybe I would have considered it if the applicators weren’t plastic, but I told her, “No way, I’ll just keep making homemade toilet paper pads.”

My mom said, “That’s ridiculous. If you’re really that worried, take it out after four hours instead of six.”

One night we watched Expendables 3. Well, my dad left ten minutes after it started to go work in his office. We wouldn’t have picked the movie if it weren’t for him, but the agony of picking out another movie was too overwhelming so we committed to it. I’m glad we did. The ridiculousness of the cast, every 90’s action star, was hysterical. We nearly fell off the couch laughing when Dr. Frasier Crane strolled on the scene.

I read about a movie at the Cannes Film Festival getting an eleven-minute standing ovation. Eleven Minutes!! Even the best movie I’ve ever seen, I don’t think I could clap longer than one minute. Wouldn’t clapping for eleven minutes cause nerve damage, or make your hands fall off?

The Hot Chick, a Rob Schneider classic, is a 21%. You can’t trust the critics. My childhood favorite, Pretty Woman, did better than I would have thought with a 60%. 

Tomorrow I’m turning 42 and I feel more like Margot Tenenbaum than Vivian Ward. I remember, as an eight-year-old thinking how amazing adulthood would be. There’s Julia Roberts, making money, getting high fashion, and aspiring to finish high school. And here I am reading the highlighted parts of “How to Win Lotteries, Sweepstakes, and Contests in the 21st Century.”

I guess I missed the key takeaway from Pretty Woman, don’t kiss them boys on the mouth, it will only bring on trouble… unless they drive a Lotus Esprit and are best friends with George Costanza, then it’s like winning the lottery.