I just wanted to clear the air on this blog because it sounds like there's some speculation out there that I'm going to stop blogging and quit my job after I win Mega Millions later tonight. Everyone should know that I've already told my superiors at The Day that I will, in fact, return to work after I win.
I'm going on a previously planned two-week vacation starting Monday, so don't be alarmed if the posting seems infrequent on the Dining Blog.
But I should tell you that even though I'm going to be staying on at The Day, things will change a little around here. And that includes my dining habits. Here's what you can expect:
Yesterday, someone left me a nasty letter in the New London public garage, complaining about how close I parked to their car. So now that I'm going to have virtually limitless cash on hand, I will no longer park in the garage. Instead I will take a helicopter from home to a landing area atop The Day's offices. I've been on the roof before and there is plenty of room for this.
To maintain a sense of normalcy, I will continue eating egg sandwiches for breakfast. But they will be cooked on my private chopper and made with Ostrich eggs and Pule cheese, a smoked donkey's milk cheese that can run about $700 a pound.
After I arrive on the roof of The Day in the morning, a group of the company's most senior executives will meet me and carry me into the building on a palanquin, fanning me with palm branches and feeding me grapes.
I will keep the same desk I have now. I think it will be important to interact with the plebeians in the newsroom.
I'm going to reimburse The Day to hire me an executive assistant. This person will greet me when I get to my desk, then make me a cup of Kopi Luwak, an Indonesian coffee that's made by allowing an Asian Palm Civet or other civet to pass the coffee berry through its digestive system. This assistant will also file my nails between blog posts and Facebook updates, and massage my feet every 15 minutes (I'm already accepting applications for this position, which you can submit to email@example.com).
I care about my colleagues at The Day and I want them to feel like they are a part of my wild opulence. So every day at lunch time, The Day newsroom will be converted for a Polynesian style party. There will be tiki torches on every reporter and editor's desk, and belly dancers will make their way around the room, serving coconut shrimp and duck spring rolls to everyone.
It's important that my colleagues know money isn't going to change me. I may start coming to work in a sauna suit everyday, but I'm still going to be the same old hard-working, blue collar journalist.
To bring home this point, I will participate in regular trust-building exercises with all newsroom employees. This will involve them routinely turning their backs to me and falling into my open arms. I'm also going to splurge for more team-building exercises. The first such trip will be white water rafting along the Colorado River.
And I don't want the people of New London to think I'm going to forget them after I become fabulously wealthy. In fact, as the dining blogger, I think it will be appropriate for me to hold a weekly Mardi Gras style parade down Bank Street, followed by an all you can eat Cajun dinner, free and open to the public.
At each weekly parade I will sit atop a 40 foot tower erected downtown in my honor. From this spot I will grant one wish to a resident of the city each week.
As for my dinner every night? Now that's a tough one. I've not had money like this before, so I'm not sure how I'll spend it exactly. There will surely be regular lobster dinners and every meat and fish I eat will be marinated in truffle oil. But I think I may begin hunting and eating my own shark, blue fin tuna and big game animals.
So, as I write this blog hours before my big win later tonight, I ask that you accept me as you have in the time before I was worth $640 million. Also, if you have any requests of me, please ask them below while you still can. Because there's a chance the money may go straight to my head and I could forget about all of you by tomorrow.