One can surely divide the world according to different criteria, eg wealth, age, language, race, religion. But one thing that slices through all these boundaries like a scalpel is certainly success. In life, there are winners and there are losers. Period.
Now which group would you rather belong to? Don’t bother answering. It’s obvious enough.
(In the instance that you have selected the more-obscure and less obvious option i.e losers, please back away from your computer, slowly. Refrain from making any sudden moves. Please stand up, call the funny farm and wait for your white-coat clad escorts to fit you into that snug circulation-cutting little white vest before carting you off to the Hill.)
Face it, we live in a culture obsessed with winning. And I for one, quite fancy the winning bit, particularly after lots and lots of hard-work, sweating, racing-pulse, etc. What I cannot possibly, ever understand is what the Infinitely Wise One (IWO) was thinking when he made the likes of Paris Hilton – not that it is for me to understand, I would never be *that* arrogant. Really. But I have a little issue with Ms Hilton and her ilk. The world is their oyster and they shun Fate’s smile on their undeserving faces, in the manner with which ducks let water roll off their backs! No, even worse, they probably give Fate the twice-over and comment on how last season her shoes are, peppering their language with ‘That’s hot!’ and ‘Loves it!’ Why? Surely, I would have been more gracious with Fate’s kindness, had this only been bestowed upon me.
(Note to self: STOP watching The Simple Life or self’s brain will go simple, and apart from marking an unbearable loss to the human race, would guarantee self a reserved place at the Hill.)
ENTIRELY FICTICIOUS SCENARIO: Am trying to imagine self at an A-list party in Ms Hilton’s Manolos, which a. don’t fit, b. are too high, and c. don’t go with what I’m wearing. In addition I am constantly looking around nervously because I don’t know anyone, everyone’s drunk (or worse!), someone who looks suspiciously like Mr Colin 'irritating' Farrell is sliding up to me, accessorised with cigarette-in-mouth, beer bottle in one hand and an upcoming thrashy actress (utterly eluded by talent) draped across his other arm. GAAH!
Verdict: Nightmare.
(See what I mean about the Hill now.)
Voice of sane/ adult part of self’s personality (obviously an insignificantly small part of self): Has she gone and totally lost it now?
Self replying to sane/ adult part of self’s personality: No, you git! And will you stop making me feel guilty for everything? I mean a girl deserves a little fun, right? Anyway. I have not lost it.
Actually, I’ve found it! I now know how Fate is going to make everything up to me: I am going to win today’s Super 5 draw.
Sane/ adult part of self’s personality, holding phone to metaphysical ear: Hello, directory enquiries? Yes, could you kindly give me the number of the Funny Farm on the Hill? That’s right. And make it quick for goodness sakes before she gets violent.
Self replying to sane/ adult part of self’s personality: Shurrrup!
Generally I am not really in favour of buying tickets to lotteries, etc because even when I do, I never win! But today it occurred to me to buy tickets for the draw. I felt a very strong special draw to the ticket booth and therefore I have bought two tickets, with a similar selection of numbers – because I was unsure whether Fate instructed me to take a 4 or a 14 – so basically, I thought best to play it safe.
Tonight, when I win the Super 5 draw my life will change. I will drive around in a Hum Vee, wearing only Calvin Klien, Vera Wang, Gucci and Donna Karen over La Perla! Yesss… Cannot wait.
Sane/ adult part of self’s personality, whispering: Boys and Girls check our site for tomorrow’s post: 'How come I didn’t win?'
