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.