|I've hit the jackpot!
||[Jun. 23rd, 2006|11:16 am]
I'm rich! I'm rich! Stanford ate my bill! I just made $150,000.00! This will be the most profitable year of my young life!|
It's too bad I couldn't pay them, they were worth every penny. Had I not had the honor to have been worked on by their neurosurgery professor, I might be dead, a vegetable, or worse, normal!
Excuse me while I dance.
Wrote this to family and fiends that aren't journal endowed.
Buon giorno tutti,
Family and fiends, I just got the good news, Stanford ate my bills!
That's right, 150,000 mothes just flew out of my wallet with empty tummies.
Well, maybe only 75,000 mothes. I'm partial to two dollar bills.
Anyway, anyone who fretted about my financial situation, worry no longer,
I'm back in the black.
I value the work they performed on poor Humpty Dumpty. I don't know how
many of the kings horses had to be turned in to glue to patch me up, but
I'd thank every one of them. The king's men (and women) did a dandy job
piecing me back together, and, as of this date, thanks to Stanford
Hospital's medical team and financial services dept, I am no worse for the
wear. (I don't think of it so much as losing a fro as I do gaining a sexy
I've already begun writing a thank you letter to Stanford. I don't know
how to assure that it gets to the right people, the people who helped the
most. I've considered writing it in crayon so they'll post it on the
Neurosurgery office's fridge (where they keep all the doner brains) for
all to see. Maybe I'll compose an interpretive dance, perform it in their
wing, and hope the right people see it before the paddy wagon arrives to
take me away (hehe-hoho-haha, to the funny farm!) I should stick with my
skills though. Maybe I'll infect their mail server with the "Thanks so
much" virus. It'll send out thank you emails every February 25th to
everyone in the office. I'm sure I'll figure something out.
I still hold that I owe a great debt to society, at large. I'm working on
it. I really am.