Envy in Its Finest Hour...

Who wants to talk stocks when there's 18 newly minted millionaires, that you know personally and work with, running around the jungle with erect penises, talking shit, doing lines of blow atop fine escorts...

Apologies as I've dwelled on this subject for the last few days as many of my colleagues have. Fuck me running sideways racing a gay alligator driving a minivan around the West Edmonton Mall parking lot, it's still the talk of the town here and not only because we got a pool at work going now who's gonna lose it all first..

Each winner, a salt of the Earth kind of guy, with his own unique story to tell, I'm sure, about their lifetime of hardships and their own dream finally coming true...

17 of 18 new millionaires...

Well.. get your own fucking blog, this shit is about me.


While I am happier than a pig in shit for each one of the 18 working stiffs who finally got their kick at the can and glad it's not the 80 year old oil executive single lotto winner with cancer and no heirs that you usually read about in the paper, I do admit there's envy here. I'm human, how can I not be envious? And really, a million is a not whole lot of money; If a milly was the magic number one at my age could retire on right the fuck now, I would've done it years ago; cripes, I doubt if I could even trade stocks full time with that size of float, even with my piker lifestyle.
 

Still, that's alot of "fuck you" money, cold hard liquid cash, to get, all in one ejaculation shot.  It took me years to accumulate that kind of wad in net worth,  at my turret on a daily basis, constantly on the lookout for the next GOOG, dodging munitions, Matrix-style, and putting up with all you dicksuckers and your sage advice on how AAPL is going to $00.00 because you so happen to feel the need to justify your big-screen Samsung phone purchase.

To this day, I spend countless hours studying gay charts and retarded trendlines, keeping up on all the bullshit news, putting my testicles on the counter while speed chopping carrots, anticipating at any second, some fucktard out of Europe may say something and make everything magically disappear; but, in the back of mind, I can't help thinking maybe I should've been buying lotto tickets all this time instead of juggling pinless hand grenades... 

The feeling is akin to training at the gym; sweating your bag off, throwing iron around for years and some skinny fuck walks in off the street, sticks a syringe in between his toes, and pounds out the same weight and number of reps as you just did on the bench press; except in this case there's 18 of them skinny fucks, and they're all in front of you at the water fountain...  I think what truly gets my goat is the fact that I gotta run around at work even more now to cover for these fuckers; laugh it up but if you had 18 guys at your workplace just get up and leave, even just to take the week off, tell me that doesn't disrupt the workplace at all.

Mind you, if that was me that won the lottery, and I didn't blow it all in one shot that same evening by putting it all on red and letting it ride like the degenerate OTB guy that I am, I'd probably be in the same boat... Actually I would still show up to work just to fuck with guys and see how long it would take them to fire my ass.  Why not? I'd be testing people to see what their "number" was, getting them to do all sorts of stupid dog tricks and shit... "OK would you take 5 grand to shit on that guy's desk...no? How 'bout 10? "  "25G's to anyone that will take that crane over there and put that guy's car on top of that 200' tower over there.." 

Sigh... back at 'er... at least AAPL is green this morning...