When I Become Independently Wealthy

I'm going to purchase the best sound system in the world. Then I'm going to install hyper-perceptive bionic eardrums into my skull--because even when I'm rich, I think music will--like, totally still be a big part of my life, yo.

I'm going to buy out all the ad space on every website I visit with the original intent to rid them of ads altogether. Eventually I will replace these blank spots with a moving .gif of my head, urging the viewer to hit it with a tiny boxing glove in order to win an X-Box.

I'm still going to do medical studies for a little extra scratch on the side.

I'm going to purchase publishing rights for the Bible.

I'll hire every former boss I've had to do whatever it is I did for them for one week. Then we'll have a big party to celebrate my life. Party favors will include action figures, and rolls of receipt paper. Steak n' Shake meals will be served.

I'll have anyone who looks exactly like me assassinated. I don't know if these people exist, but I'm pretty sure that if I kill them, I'll get their collective life force.

I'll bottle my excess life force and sell it for even more money which I will use to hire a shaman to suck the life force from my enemies. Wash, rinse, repeat.

I'm going to purchase a seersucker suit, and crocodile shoes. If you don't understand why, go back to Awesome School (or perhaps attend for the first time).

I'm going to get clear sinuses year-round. I don't know how, but price is no object.

I'm going to invite everyone who has ever wronged me to a "bury the hatchet"' party. As they're all chatting and having a great time drinking punch, my voice will come over the intercom and announce, "Ladies and gentlemen! I sincerely hope you are enjoying your drinks, because they are actually poison!" As they all begin to panic and clutch each other in fear, I reveal that I had been joking, and it's actually just normal fruit-punch. That was a rather distasteful joke, but that's Nick for you!, they'll all be thinking. And in that moment, the floor drops from beneath them as they plunge into cold, robot-shark infested waters.

I'm going to buy all of my friends Crocs for Christmas.

I'll have every variety of Pop-Tart within 50 feet of me at all times.

I'll make hats made of lobsters fashionable again.

Every woman I bring to my house will be treated to the finest foods and entertainment. Two words: Tom Jones.