I just wagered on the Pick 4 through my TVG account. Well, technically it's not my TVG account; it's Friend-with-a-Truck's. But he promises not to garnish my winnings when I win that Pick 4, worth $1 million.
I bet my birthday (7-2-5), plus Mine That Bird (7). So when you see that I haven't blogged in a few days, and you notice that the Pick 4 winners were 7-2-5-7, then you'll note that I have purchased that vineyard in Argentina at the foothills of the Andes and moved on.
I gamble only a few times a year. The Derby, obviously. A few random other days at the track. And the occasional Powerball, but only when it's at an absurdly high amount that makes me want to participate in the pop culture phenomenon that is Powerball.
It's amazing what purchasing that single QuickPick or placing that wager at the track can do to your imagination. I immediately assume I have won, and daydreams ensue. For example, "Wow, it will be such a relief to not have to worry about who will produce my next record. I can just hire T-Bone Burnett. And I can finally pay Willie to sing that duet with me. And I can supply the recording studio with my own brand of wine that I aged at my new vineyard in Argentina."