What would you really do?

We already know that the next Powerball winner is going to be a rich white man from the Hamptons whose only plans with the money will be to "put it with the rest of it."  Fucking boring, right? That's why I was excited today when a coworker told me that he thought that I was going to be the big winner. Based solely on his prediction, I told my boss to fuck off and I quit. To further seal the deal, I deficated on his office chair. He didn't seem to care at all because none of that actually happened except for in my head.

For about a week or so I've heard so many conversations about what people would do with that kind of money and so many of the same cliché responses. Paying off debt, buying a house, travelling the world, blah, blah, blah. We're talking about a billion dollars here, you can do anything... ANYTHING! 

Nobody ever says, "I am definitely going to hire 100 hookers, or I'm going to hire an assassin to kill that douche bag from high school, or I'm getting a sex change but not for me. It'll be a surprise for somebody I pick! Well, those are just a few things I might allegedly do if I win. Here are a few more:

You know those babboons with those giant red asses? Yeah, those red-assed babboons. I want a jacket made with only that red ass skin. Yes, full length maybe with a fur collar and cuffs. It would be all the rage.

Okay fine, I know I'm not going to win the lottery. So instead of wasting your time with wildly inappropriate ideas of mine, I will tell you how my night went.

This is the second Monday now that I've gone to the new meeting in Golden Valley to meet my sponsor. It went only slightly better than last week but that's progress. I got there before he arrived so I sat in the vicinity of where we sat last week. When he walked in he sat two rows in front of me and didn't look at me or say anything. I waited until the first part of the meeting was done and again I had to follow him and get his attention and even then it was as if he didn't recognize me. Me! With this sexy face! Hmmph. Well anywho, long story short, I finally got my hands on a big book, and we head for Doolittle's where we were supposed to get down to business but we just sit and stare at anything but eachother.
I wonder if he's socially awkward too.

People started joining our table and that's when I started to feel that old familiar....... I don't know what. I looked everywhere but at the people. I listened to conversations, watched food coming and people communicating, but I still couldn't do it. What the fuck am I supposed to say?

At the end I made plans to meet my sponsor on Saturday at a coffee shop closer to home where we can sit at a table for two and I can decide if he's the guy that's going to guide me through these 12 steps or not. I can get over the anxiety thing, I know this because I have at my other meeting. It just takes time. But I need to have a useful sponsor or I don't think I'll have a very good shot at long term sobriety.

In closing, I'd like to hear from you. What horrible or illegal or funny thing would you do if you had a billion dollars. Remember, your comments can remain anonymous. Tiajuana donkey show? Buy a black market human? Come on, just try to shock me!