If I had a Lamborghini...

…I would surely be labeled a “douche” by all, or at least before they actually met me. Any guy driving a bright orange Lambo, which would be the color I’d choose, receives the same prejudice and rightfully so. They’re flashy, loud, expensive and rarely driven by likable, down to Earth people, however, if you had access to such a machine, you probably wouldn’t give two shits about what anybody thought. I know I wouldn’t.

The hipster yelling, mocking or scoffing at me as I rip down LaSalle street in second gear wouldn’t even register in my brain as the joy hearing and feeling the crisp Italian power me forward would absorb all of my attention - no pretentious kid of the times would be able to ruin it for me. Besides, we all know serious cyclists of Chicago are much friendlier and less self absorbed than those who drive Italian sports cars.

If I could go fishing at the Shedd Aquarium...

...I would be legitimately fat by the end of the week. Every time I go there, which is probably once a year, I can't  help but notice that their massive tropical rock lobster looks more and more delicious! That would surely be the first thing to go, in fact, I'd probably end up cooking it in the building moments after snatching it from the tank. The sharks would be diced up, skewered and grilled, the crabs boiled alive and that giant grouper would be fried and made part of the biggest sandwich the world has ever seen.
I'd leave the dolphins, whales and otters be (at least until a solid recipe is secured). I might have to hire a personal chef to figure out what to do with all the other unfortunate critters swimming around oblivious to their imminent demise. I'm thinking perhaps the most extravagant gumbo ever conceived in a swimming pool sized stew pot could be the solution for all the other eclectic breeds of doomed fish.

If you were to ask for my current résumé...

...it would read thusly;

- Janitor 2005-2007
- Tee ball player 1995-1996
- Middle school graduate
- Roommate of three
- Y2k survivor
- Two-time KFC patron
- Netflix subscriber
- Amateur life coach
- Chumbawamba album owner
Other things also accomplished!

If it were up to me to plan my own funeral…

...I would have my body obliterated like a beached whale while “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees plays in the background; I would leave the choice of C4 or dynamite up to my friends and relatives. I’d also like to add that everyone present would be able to go home with a little bit of me since the explosion would leave fragments and stains on their clothing, skin and hair. This way, nobody gets left out as a funeral is not for the person who died but the people they leave behind.
After my remains go every which way like Mega Man upon defeat, I would have the rest of my send-off be a funky dance party, hopefully with a live Jamiroquai performance. While everyone is drinking and getting their groove on, several giant megatrons would be replaying the video of my exploding corpse in varying degrees of slow motion as it would surely be a blast to watch. I sincerely apologize for the pun.

If we lived in Oppositeland…

...airplanes would fly underwater. Tigers would root through city alleys like rats looking for scraps. Pigeons would be on the endangered species list and on display at only the most prestigious zoos. Only the five richest families of European royalty would be able to afford Hyundais and Geos while Taco Bell would be a five star restaurant in Paris dating back to the eighteenth century.
The North pole would be in Hawaii and the South pole would be in the Sahara. The world would be split in two; North versus South as the two world economic and military powers, Poland and Canada, would be on icy terms. Men would desire grotesque women that resemble jellyfish with eyeballs while women would desire men who don’t treat them like shit.
Christmas would be a day when we gather around a rotting cactus to flog each other mercilessly in celebration of the birth of Adolph Hitler; Easter would make perfect sense. The world cup would be what we currently call the NFL and the Olympic games would consist of math, TV trivia and Dungeons and Dragons. A bottle of Mountain Dew would be opened at moments of joy and triumph and young children would be sent off to school with lunchboxes full of beer and knives.
John Lennon would be 71 years old still living in his mother’s basement eating hot-pockets while Keith Richards is elected pope and Hanson is inducted into the hall of fame. Moviestars would wear Crocs while riding the bus or carpooling to Branson, Missouri to see Justin Bieber defend his title for UFC heavyweight champion of the world.
People would wear their underwear over their pants like superheroes and wait for others to get off the elevator or train before getting on. Cars would run on stem cells, babies would have the right to abort the fathers who carry them and God wouldn’t care since he would have more important things to deal with like paying his rent on time.

If I had to choose my own death…

...it would surely be something exciting. The first thing that comes to mind would be free falling from the Sears Tower. It would be like Giant Drop at Six Flags without churros afterwards. Crashing a fighter jet would be pretty fun as would be driving a top-fuel dragster 400 miles per hour head on into the side of a mountain. I guess “deceleration trauma” would be the official cause of death - something that starts with serious speed and ends with something flat and hard would be my choice.
Though it would be cool to be the first human being to be shot into the center of the sun via rocket. On that same note, being the first to disappear into a black hole would be pretty sweet as well. Whatever, I would choose, you can bet that there will be no bed involved with the one exception of being fucked to death by Sienna Miller.

If I could invent one kind of pill…

...it would be something that instantly sobers you up regardless of what/how much you took. My God, wouldn’t life be grand! You could drink yourself into oblivion while talking to the girl at the bar then pop a pill on the way to her place so the whole thing doesn’t blow up in your face because you were too shitfaced.
Any time you find yourself babysitting a drunk friend (or whatever they might be) all you would have to do is drop one of those magic pills into their drink then go about your business. Soberzall is what I would probably call it.

If I was legally allowed to shoot pigeons…

...my Saturdays would go something like this; wake up and have a nice breakfast with an entire pot of coffee, then go to my room and get dressed. I would get my BB pistols and pellet rifles from under my bed and catch a El train into the loop. I would then load my weapons (with hollow points for maximum stopping power) and casually walk along the sidewalks killing each pigeon I see with a surgically accurate shot through the brain or spine. The ones that take flight will be winged and left for the tires of taxi cabs for the purposes of conserving ammunition. Whoever said “You can’t kill them all” was a fool – by the time Monday rolls around people will wonder where they went. Actually, unless the city makes an effort to clean up the corpses, everyone would surely notice the filthy expired birds laying motionless on the sidewalk because anyone who thinks I’m picking one of them up to throw it in the trash has another thing coming.

If I had to take an authors portrait…

...I would do everything possible to make it not look so cliché. Nerdy authors all dressed in clothes they probably didn’t pick themselves in completely unnatural poses to make them seem much cooler than they are is not a category I want to fall into.
Doesn’t anybody post a photo that they didn’t spend hours preparing for? How about the author lazing on the couch watching some stupid reality show? What about two seconds after the writer stubs her toe? What about the exact moment of total shock when someone barges into the bathroom while he’s dropping a deuce? The possibilities are limitless.
I just don’t want my friends or family to look in the back of my book, see my portrait and say to me “Seriously, you’re never that cool.” When the photo is of you drunkenly urinating on a bush at your Fourth of July barbeque, there’s nowhere to go but up!

If we could legally abort teenagers…

...this world would be much nicer. Forget the babies for a moment, nothing would be better than the option to do-away with your mouthy little sixteen-year-old with no redeeming qualities. “Billy, you’re mother and I have given this a lot of thought; we’re going to abort you.” When the kid replies with a cliché punkish response, you’ll know you’ve made the right decision.
All those worthless kids with their bad attitudes and false sense of entitlement would be piled up in the dumpsters behind their local Planned Parenthood clinic. Maybe it would even work as a deterrent, the little kick in the ass some kids need to stop being unbearable little peckers. Especially if the method of execution is embarrassing, a teenager’s worst fear.
“Naw man, if my parents catch me huffin’ paint again they’re going to take me to the abortion clinic and beat me to death my own porn stash.”
“That’s nothin’ dude, my parents said that if I get suspended just one more time, they’ll put my secret Pokemon obsession in my obituary!”

If the internet was crank operated…

...everything would be right in the world. If my download was going too slow, I could just pick up the pace by cranking faster. Just like an old car, bicycle or manual electric generator, the performance would be determined by how hard or fast you can turn the crank. Internet junkies would get some much needed exercise assuming they don’t buy a gas-powered modem or quit using the internet entirely. If someone wasn’t in the mood for an upper-body workout, crank powered modems could be worked into stationary bikes and elliptical trainers for a nice cardiovascular workout while surfing the web.
The days of you growing more and more frustrated while you watch your download go absolutely nowhere would be a thing of the past – no longer would you find yourself cursing at your worthless provider in futility as you could actually do something about it! Don’t like the speed? Crank faster! It’s like when you were a kid and you had the choice between a tricycle or a Power-wheel; sure, you didn’t have to do a lick of work when riding the Power-wheel but if it went any slower it would be going backwards. The tricycle, if you were prepared to pedal, would get you places much faster and embarrass any punk-ass fat kid who challenges you to a race in his sister's pink Power-wheel.

If I was the CEO of Cyberdyne Systems…

…I surely wouldn’t make Terminators, let alone Skynet. Anyone who’s familiar with the Terminator series know that Cyberdyne makes cybernetic organisms and various other gismos that are perfect in virtually every way aside from the malevolent ghost in the machine. They don’t break, they don’t short circuit, hell they don’t even need to charge their batteries!
How about a Cyberdyne family sedan? How about a Cyberdyne laptop or MP3 player? How about a Cyberdyne search engine? Cyberdyne digital cable? What if you were to put Toyota, Apple or Google out of business by creating products that were superior in every way? It almost feels as though Comcast will be the one collecting your taxes soon so what if you conquered the cable industry?
If I were the CEO, global domination would not be in the form of flawless robots but the world’s most reliable every day tools - Steve Jobs would sweat right through his pretentious black turtleneck. Say goodbye to your Camry, the new T-550 coupe has an indestructible frame, an onboard computer with a learning CPU and, of course, glowing red headlights! So come on down to you local Cyberdyne dealer and drive away with a brand new T-550 for only $349 a month!

If I fell into the Chicago River and lived…

…I wouldn’t waste a second calling the suicide hotline. There isn’t enough soap in the world to make myself feel clean again. I would burn my clothes, bleach my skin then rub myself down in hand sanitizer over and over and over again – I have no idea what would come next but it wouldn’t be good.
It might go something like this; find some sort of latex jumpsuit, or “body condom” if you will, do my very best not to touch anything. I would also try and find a support group, I figure there’s a support group for just about anything, and pick up some sort of religion that focuses on self enlightenment regardless of how tainted I will be physically and mentally. Long story short, if I were ever to fall in, please let me drown.

If I accidently traveled back in time…

…I would know almost immediately. Wouldn’t we all? Assuming you didn’t wind up in a field or a just a single week back, you’d be pretty aware of your situation pretty quickly. When everyone around you are wearing business type hats and driving Model-T’s, you’re somewhere before the Great Depression. If everyone is speaking in old English and wearing tights, you’re obviously not in Kansas anymore. If people around you are checking their Myspace, guess what, it’s 2004!
Regardless of how one would accidently enter a time warp, be it falling into a mystical ditch or driving a modified DeLorean a little too fast, one would have to be an idiot to wander around their new surroundings asking questions like “what just happened?”, “where am I?” or “can I borrow somebody’s cell phone? I think I’m lost.” That being said, once I come to terms with my bazaar dilemma, I would stop moping and try to make the best of it by enjoying an America with thirteen colonies, brand new Shelby Cobras or plentiful single action revolvers. Also, an accidental time warp to before the invention of hip-hop would be greatly appreciated.