My friend Kate introduced me to the concept of the Fantasy Wishlist. I could get used to a world filled with these:
- A daughter who cleans her room before I actually have to take a stick in to whack the things nesting in the corners.
- Super-hero running legs.
- My own petting zoo – with room for a llama and baby goats.
- A personal shopper at Nordstroms who would lead me to the secret stashes I KNOW they’re hiding from the common folk who must look for themselves.
- Real Fashion Police. Oh, come on, people! Paris Hilton? That alone is worth an arrest.
- A husband who doesn’t find it necessary to classify the refridgerator. And it’s not just alphabatized – it’s also subcatagorized by food group!
- A dog that comes with her own cleaning team to trail behind the “happy pee.”
- Someone to kill the cheese-grating madman who makes mincemeat of my ovaries. Hell, while it’s a fantasy list, a world without PMS would be nice.
- A hangover-free martini. Or five.
- To be a driver who doesn’t scare the hell out of my passengers.
- To not have to use the term “international sales meeting” to cover my blogging addiction at work.
- An Ethiopian baby who runs faster than all the other babies. Or just runs, since that would be fairly impressive in a baby.
- The Swordsy girl’s breasts.
- One day where I don’t have to hear either ESPN or Hillary Duff on the television.
- That the bathroom across from my office would suddenly start smelling like roses insted of like…bathroom.
- Oh, and since this is a fantasy list – world peace would be nice too.
Related Posts:
Popularity: -0% [?]
