Beauty, Freedom, Truth, Love, & Weird Clothes

Secretly, I kind of consider myself a bohemian. Do I know what that even means? No. But according to Urban Dictionary (which is obviously reliable), it’s someone who is “above all [an] optimist” (and who “like[s] wearing a mixture of weird clothes”). Yeah, that sums me up.

On the real, though, I would never call myself a bohemian. Mostly because it sounds like a really pretentious excuse to smoke weed, and I don’t need any excuses, thankyouverymuch. But I saw Moulin Rouge, and listened to that whole spiel about the bohemian ideals of “beauty, freedom, truth, and love.” And I agree. Also, I enjoy absinthe, even though it tastes way more like licorice than my taste buds expected.

Seriously, though, what’s not to love about wearing feathers in your hair and lying in the sunshine and thinking happy things? What’s something better you could do with your time on earth? I have no idea what the meaning of life is. Probably, it’s like a giant dogfight and people in the sky are betting on us or something. So why spend your useless time being miserable? Instead, you should spend it in fringe-y scarves and moccasins, drinking strange green liquor with your friends and being stoked. It’s the bohemian way–take it from me.

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If I Had a Million Dollars, I’d Be Rich (But I Digress)

If I had a million dollars, I would not buy you a house, or a fur coat (but not real fur, ’cause that’s cruel), or an exotic pet.

Seriously, though. I wouldn’t buy any of the things in that song. No offense, Internet. It’s just that I already have a lot of plans for what I’d purchase with my fictional bucks. It’s a pastime of mine, daydreaming about all the stuff I’d have if I was rich. (What do rich people daydream about, do you think? Because they sure as fuck aren’t jonesing for Kraft mac-n-cheese or a twin-size bed. But I digress.)

If you eat caviar every day, this is a delicacy.

So here it is. The official WildHearts if-I-get-rich shopping list.

  1. Weed. Lots and lots and lots of weed. And a beautiful bong, and a cute little bowl, and a gorgeous vape. In fact, I would have a special room in my mansion (see Number 2) just to hotbox.
  2. A mansion.
  3. A butler named Jenkins. Or Watson. If he has a different name, I will force him to change it.
  4. A bunch of fluffy, friendly dogs and cats.
  5. A Porsche Spyder, and a Mini Cooper.

I probably put too many pictures of people smoking on here, but whether you’re down with the ganj or not, you have to admit that smoke is very aesthetically pleasing. Besides, I thought to myself, What would the lovely People of the Internet prefer, a photo of an old British butler, or a pretty girl? I made a judgment call. But, once more, I digress.

Other things I would like include a maid, a fennel fox called Sebastian, really nice leather boots, headphones that don’t just indiscriminately blast music to the world while barely reaching my ears (thanks, iPod), and a Hello Kitty water dispenser. So watch out, world. When I make my millions, you’re gonna…you’re gonna…well, you’re not gonna hear Ke$ha blasting from my head when I walk by, that’s what!

Cat-Owning Apartment Pimp

I can’t wait ’till I have my own apartment. I don’t even really mean my own own, because living with housemates is fine by me. Rattling around in a flat, even a tiny one, with myself and my overactive imagination, is not a good idea. I’d prolly end up killing a Jehovah’s Witness or some Girl Scouts in a fear-induced rampage, and nobody wants that. (Although, hey, free Samoas!)

But seriously, people of the Internet, if you are reading this from the comfort of anywhere that isn’t your parents’ house or a dorm room, feel happy. Just think of all the advantages you have!

  1. You can be naked ALL THE TIME. I am partial to strolling around in my panties, personally. (And also alliteration. Ha, I did it again!)
  2. Speaking of being naked, sex! Whenever you want! On your kitchen table, perhaps. Or the couch. Or the floor.
  3. YOU WILL HAVE SO MUCH MORE ROOM FOR ACTIVITIES.
  4. You could have bear-wrestling contests in your house, if you were so inclined. Or if that’s not your thing, you could run a brothel. Apartment = instapimp, just add ladies.
  5. You can smoke! I don’t mean ciggies, although I suppose you could, except that’s a bad call (forecast: heavy coughing with a severe chance of lung cancer. Unless they’re Blacks, and then mmmm). I mean something a little greener.

When I have my own place, I am going to make it really cozy, with lots of rugs and squishy mismatched chairs and possibly a fluffy gray cat named Felix. And hopefully a balcony.

Oh, yeah, and maybe a special bear-fighting ring.

Homey Home

Being home has many Amazing Good Things, like real food and a bed with a million blankets on it. But home also lacks three pivotal aspects of my life: sexy time, alcohol, and 420 friendliness.

That being said, though, my bed is soooo comfy right now.