Happiness-I Can Get It For You Wholesale

They say the best things in life are free. It’s hard to believe that when you’re young, but somewhere deep inside of you, you assume that eventually you will be mature enough to see the truth in that saying. Then you get older, and it dawns on you, you were right in the first place, the best things in life are not free, they never were, and they never will be. Women begin to rethink other things too, like, would it really have been such a bad idea to marry some old guy for his money? Of course, men readily condemn the beautiful young women who do that, “Yeah, well, she’s a shallow bitch, if he didn’t have that money, she wouldn’t have anything to do with him.” To which my response is, “And if she didn’t look like that, he wouldn’t know she was alive.” [expand]

Hugh Hefner’s girlfriend just broke off their engagement. He’s 85, she’s 25. They’ve been dating for two years. She’s definitely ahead of the curve and knows the best things in life aren’t free and she got her hooks into a big league sugar daddy. Any woman could put up with apnea alarms and Viagra for a few years with a payoff like the one Hefner is offering, so I wonder what went wrong—why did she break it off? If she’s managed to sleep with him for two years, there can’t be any surprises. Why swim away from the goose with the biggest golden egg in the world? Where did the relationship go off the rails?

Was she worried about becoming a stepmother? His children are in their 40s and 50s and get along very well with her by all reports. They are all employed by his Playboy empire, so they could help her get a job in the business if she wanted to pretend to work after Hef’s demise. Or they could just show her how to avoid paying too much in taxes from her annual trust fund allowance.

And then, in an interview, she said, “Hef is wonderful. I never really cared about his money, you know what they say, ‘the best things in life are free.’” And that’s when she fell in my esteem from being a smart, busty, blond, bimbo, to being a genuinely stupid, busty, blond, bimbo.

Louis Vuitton costs money…so does Chanel, so does everything else I want, how dare she toss her perfectly-coiffured blond hair carelessly over her shoulder and declare that she doesn’t need money to be happy. I believe that the only people who can say that are rich people because they never have to worry about the alternative. Maybe they don’t need money to be happy, but the rest of us do. The poor learn that happiness comes in layers.

For me, Layer One is a comfortable wicker rocker for my front porch, an iPad2, some streamed clams, good coffee and black & white cookies—minimally—to be anywhere near happy.

Layer Two is some pretty new jewelry, which can be added to Layer One. On Shelter Island pearls and Capri pants is a natural combo.

Layer Three would be friends coming over to chat and play games, and that costs gas money and money for coffee cake.

Layer Four for me to be happy is air conditioning, which definitely costs money.

Happiness is not free, but you can find some great bargains if you look hard enough…. [/expand]


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