After my pre-buyers's remorse, I played on all my favorite websites and eventually turned to Instagram when internet land became boring.
Somehow, through a long chain of stalking, I came across a page called "Rich kids of Instagram." If you have seen this, you probably feel the same why I do about it...it makes you want to kill yourself a little. If you haven't seen it yet, don't look or you will most likely spend your evenings crying yourself to sleep.
It's a bunch of overprivileged, unappreciative, teenagers who fly private, own cars worth as much as most people's houses, and spend more money on Starbucks than you and I will earn in our lifetimes. I'm not going to lie, I was bitter. I was suddenly mad at my father for not inventing Toaster Strudel and my mother for not marrying the man who had.
I sat awake and pondered how I too could be popping bottles in da club.
Here are some of the ideas I came up with...
go the Anna Nicole Smith route and sleep with a corpse a few times in hopes of being awarded millions of dollars. What's a little necrophilia for some caviar wishes and champagne dreams?
develop a hit new reality show for MTV that takes place in Wicker Park called, "Malort got me pregnant."
be like Zack Braff and use Kickstarter to fund something I clearly don't want to pay for myself...like my alcohol addiction. If you pledge $50, I will drunkenly sing karaoke to a song of your choosing. If you pledge $100, I will do a body shot off of you/you can do one off of me, and if you become a backer for $500, I will enter a wet T-shirt contest. Contribute now!
sign up for every medical experiment known to man. I will probably grow a beard, but at least then I can join the circus for some extra cash.
embarrass myself on fiverr.com by offering to twerk for $5 a song...even though that sight for sore eyes is clearly worth at least $13.50.
sell a kidney on the black market. Don't worry, my kidneys are fine...it's my liver no one would want. Any takers? Inbox me.
take my napkin doodles and phone pad scribbles to New York and have a group of my friends dress fancy and speak with French accents to convince the art world I am the next big thing. My sketch of a cat riding a skateboard is easily worth at least six figures.
sell all of my clothing and join a nudist colony. I probably have at least 20 million dollars in skinny jeans and 50 billion dollars in heels alone.*
*I rounded up.
invent the next big game you can play on Facebook, where you pretty much accomplish nothing, waste hours upon hours doing things that aren't worth doing in real life, and send me 100,000 invites a day for coins or some shit. Maybe I'll call it "Stay at home mom" so you can have all the joys of motherhood, without the ungrateful, screaming, children.