A few days ago, I had an interesting discussion with
Jessica, that somehow drifted from winning a $25 000 scratchie, to inheriting a limitless amount of money. Yes, limitless. Imagine a suitcase filled with $100 notes, right, and then you take out all the $100 notes, then the suitcase fills up again. YES,
LIMITLESS.
The possibility sent my imagination into frenzy, my brain was working faster than my fingers could, OH MY GOD, THINK OF ALL YOU COULD DO WITH LIMITLESS MONEY. Of course you could cure world poverty with limitless cash. Or buy Microsoft , or rediscover dodos, or raise Mozart from the dead so he could finish his last piece of music (which is terrific by the way, it would’ve been more terrific if he finished composing it though), or buy Pluto and make it a planet again, OR TAKE OVER THE WORLD.
But for the sake of this post (because by the looks of it, it isn’t going anywhere), lets pretend that to earn this magical suitcase of money, you have to be completely sane and selfish. Then I’d:
1. Leave school and forget about uni. Don’t worry guys, I’ll stay in contact if I ever happen to find a limitless supply of money (which I highly
highly doubt).
2. Buy luxury apartments all over the world- first stop Paris, then New York, then one in Sydney CBD so I could visit you guys. And I’d spend the next few months or so just decorating the interiors of all my apartments, and hunting for furniture and wallpaper and chandeliers and stuff.
3. Buy all the Louboutins in the world. And those Chloe platform boots, and a couple of Balmain dresses, a couple of Marchesa gowns, 10 Chanel 2.55s in every colour and shape, and maybe Karl Lagerfeld himself, then he can be like my personal tailor.
4. Buy hectares of land, plant a farm of dandelions, create a path down the centre of the field, have the pathway encrusted with diamonds, then use this path for my daily jog every morning.
5. Get a personal library containing all the Meg Cabot books in existence, as well as the whole of Dymocks (never know when certain books may come handy). Except for those Stephanie Meyer books, I don’t think they’d ever come in handy. Oh wait, I could use them as coal in my fireplace.
6. Buy a wardrobe of underwear. Yes that’s right, a lingerie wardrobe separate from my normal wardrobe (which will no doubt, by this point, be completely stocked with Balmain and whatever else I want). And then I can be like Paris Hilton and throw out my underwear after I wear them. My underwear wardrobe would be stocked with Elle Macpherson, Pleasure State, DKNY, Myla and all the other pretty brands, and they’d directly deliver me all their new stock. I’d have a never ending supply of pretty underwear.
7. Buy enough Bio Oil to bathe in. You know, Bio Oil? That godly stuff that heals all your scars? Yeah that, I’m going to bathe in Bio Oil everyday. No wait, forget that. I’m going to have a flowing swimming pool filled with Bio Oil, and I’m going to swim in it daily.
8. And once I have finished buying things like apartments and underwear, I’d open some design studio in Paris and design extravagant couture gowns for the rest of my life. And I won’t really have to care if they’re too extravagant for anyone to wear, even though I’d be technically working at a loss. Because I have a limitless supply of money.
9. Once everything is well underway, I’d probably keep this blog running, except you viewers would be joined with 5 million other viewers daily, and then earmuffed.com would be a huge website that has the potential to take over the world like google, except I wont attempt to take over the world, because I promised I wouldn’t.
10. And I have forgotten all of you, I’d probably get all of you some small gift. Like an endless supply of keyboards and computer mice for Jenny N, so she can stop complaining about hers not working. And I’d buy Jenny Lam a super torch so she could set her tutor’s fireproof building on fire, and she’d be free of troubles and worries. And Jenny G a drawing tablet the size of a billboard, so she could draw all day all night. And I’d hire all the hot Asian actors to be Sophie’s personal slaves. And for the rest of you, all the stock in all the vintage chain stores in the world, and bribes for acceptances at Yale or other Ivy League schools in New York, and Yugoslavia or Scandinavia or Czechoslovakia or whatever European land you’d want rule, and a castle in Mumbai. You know who you are. Oh, and a hand-delivered jumbo choc-chip cookie for every reader, every time they visit this blog.
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