It went downhill from there.

All the better to roll your @s at him.

I told him the current jackpot is so big he can buy SEVERAL private islands.

I once tuned into HGTV and they had "Island Hunters," like House Hunters but with people buying private islands instead of houses.

I hated them and yet couldn't look away.

Put differently, the current jackpot is so big he can buy SEVERAL private islands for himself and for some random axe murderers on the internet. Just sayin'. (Psst, Jesse, tell your mom.)

Well, he'll probably buy an island for my brother and one for me, and I'll be nice and share my island with you guys. There will be villas with cats and also cat-free villas for the allergic among us. Dogs will roam freely, followed by attendants to scoop up poops. There will be one magical unicorn ALL FOR ME ME ME.

So selfish, not sharing the magical unicorn.

I'll overlook this flaw if I don't have to be a poop-scooping dog-attendant.

I went to the grocery store and failed to even ask if I could buy a ticket there. Trying to interact with the bagger, the cashier, and the PIN-pad was too much for me; this is why I usually do self-checkout. But at least I have lunches for the rest of the week. Maybe I'll go find a gas station tomorrow.

Can we make Trump be the poop scoop attendant? A silent poop scoop attendant.

Belated Christmas vakay story: so my family is the non-leash family. They live on the border of a state park and take the Dodd for hikes off the leash and only grab them if there are horses incoming which is not usually in a timely fashion. But the dogs are super friendly and believe everyone is their buddy. Okay, fine. It's a joy to see them burning off energy unrestrained by a humans pace. But beyond running into people who are dogshy, there's the other side of things, like running into poachers with their hunting dogs in wildlife protected areas.

Suddenly, on our carefree romp, there's barking and growling. We rush forwards and there's a guy in camp with his two handsome but fierce looking dogs not on a trail and it's our one dog being mounted while our other stands back. My dad tries to make nice and asks what breed the dogs are. Guy snips that they're dogs "that don't like being surprised by other dogs" or something similar. And I feel bad, I do, because, yes, we've broken the leash rule. On the other hand, they're happy loving dogs that aren't a danger to anything but dangerous people/animals and he really ought to take his unsocialized dogs further from heavily peopled areas. These dogs have been roaming free for about s decade on these trails and everyone stops and pats their heads or ignores them. I wish they had a command to bring them to held swiftly for those who aren't keen. But if the only thing keeping others safe is your leash, keep them out of the public, dude.

I know we're wrong wrong wrong in regards to the public at large, but when our only bad e Petrine in over two decades is a fucking poacher, I can't feel too bad about it.

Can we make Trump be the poop scoop attendant? A silent poop scoop attendant.

Don't go into the dog park ...

I've decided that one of the things I'd do with my millions is to find a struggling book store in New York City and bankroll it and turn it into a quirky shop of obscure knowledge that strange little scholars can inhabit and never have to buy anything. I'd call it Biblio Obscura, or whatever the correct Latin for Obscure Books would be.

If I had however many millions I would:

Pay off all my family's debts, buy them new cars and houses if they wanted. Set up a fund for my nephew. I'd travel. Everywhere I wanted (hiring a pet sitter for Penny. Or maybe rent an apartment for Penny that's all hers and like a Super Cat Apartment).

Then I'd fund the board forever and a F2F.

If not the Buffista Island then the Buffista Collective thing.

I don't think I'd have enough money to make Donald Trump to make a pooper scooper but maybe Ted Cruz.