Remember the Publisher's Clearing House? The big Ed McMahon sweepstakes? You send in an entry form and six months later the prize patrol rolls up to your house and they give you a huge check and you win a million dollars and you scream and cry and are most certainly dressed to clean toilets and/or are nursing a forehead pimple that rivals the one you had for senior prom.
Who still enters that?
Besides me and my Grandma, of course. One of us is going to win the million. These days, they throw in five thousand dollars a week for life too. My daughter says that if we win the prize that Daddy could quit his job.
To which I respond with a scoff. Staying at home is MY gig.
So if you haven't entered this year, don't worry. You wouldn't have won anyway. To prepare, I'll be sitting in my chair with my lipstick on, waiting for the prize patrol to come with my check.
Me and Grandma.