I stopped by the corner gas station to do my banking. I do all my banking at the swanky ATM there. It’s the kind that sucks up your checks and figures out the amounts of each one and does the math. Using that ATM is like living in The Jetsons.
And since I was there I decided today would be a great day to become a millionaire, so along with my medium coffee and banana-chocolate chip muffin, I got two Powerball lottery tickets.
“Any fuel for you?” The gas station dude asked.
“Nope, just two Powerball tickets,” I said.
“Okay,” he punched at the cash register. “That’ll by $6.66” His eyes bugged out as he said the number.
“That’s gotta be lucky,” I handed him a $20.
“I wouldn’t say that,” he said.
“My birthday is six-six,” I said. “Sadly I wasn’t born in 66.”
He laughed. “I have a kid whose birthday is 4-4-4 and the other is 2-22-2.”
“Nice,” I said.
“Good luck,” he said.
Clearly, I’m going to win this thing. I promise not become a total asshole when they write me a check for $500 million.
I just opened my Google Reader and found this
Coincidence? I think not.