Problems

Now, it may come as a shock to my regular readers, but I do have my share of problems.

Oh, on the outside, my life looks pretty much perfect.

I’m a single, -something, who is a tiny bit internet famous, has an entry on IMDB (which is completely true), writes blogs, comics, games, and novels, drives a ’93 Toyota truck, and possesses the sheer animal magnetism (and back hair) of a Kodiak bear, but that’s just the shiny parts.

In reality, my life is as complicated and stressful as the next guy’s. I never quite have enough money, ninjas keep booby-trapping my toilet, I accidently dismantled my washing machine with a hammer. You know, all the little things that vex us in life.

It’s just that I’m tired of my problems. Sure, fighting hyper-intelligent bathtub mold with a crowbar is fun, but once you’ve done it eight or nine times, it gets kinda old.

What I want. What I really, really want, is to have someone else’s problems. Preferably someone who’s incredibly, wonderfully, amazingly rich.

I’m talking the kind of rich where I could drive up to a McDonald’s drive through, buy the entire restaurant, then go across the street and buy the Burger King as well. And then order the employees to fight to the death. The winning side gets to make me a burger. And then fight the Taco Bell crew.

I want to play an RTS with real tanks. I want to have two jumbo jets full of confetti and marshmallow peeps smash into each other at 50,000 feet, just to see what it looks like. I want a trebuchet made out of chocolate. Just ‘cause.

So, if you’re stupidly rich and would like to help me out by giving me access to your fortune for a couple months, please give me a call. I will totally give whatever’s left back to you when I’m done.

I promise.

Cheers,
-Jason