I want a disco ball 8 feet wide. I want inflatable cutlery. I want a clipper ship and a full crew of sailors. I want a pair of goats who can sing all of the Bacharach-David songbook. I want to ride an elephant. I want a night-vision ant farm. I want a document shredder. I want a glow-in-the-dark rabbit. I want to be a blonde for a week.

I want a government-mandated four-day work week. I want an amendment to the constitution abolishing tattoo flash – if you're getting a tattoo, you should have to come up with something original. And blue curaçao. That stuff ought to be illegal too. I want Martha Stewart to be named head of the Department of Homeland Security. I want catnip toys of the Bush cabinet, so I can watch my cat gnaw on Dick Cheney's head. I want a legal remedy against people who misuse the word "literally." I want all museums to have free admission. I want people in Florida to stop trying to grow grass.

I want Gram Parsons to come back from the dead and kick Ryan Adams' ass. I want Helmut Newton and Richard Avedon to come back from the dead and shoot elementary-school portraits. I want a snow day. I want a library card. I want a mink-lined teacup. I'd like to buy the world a Coke. I want to stage a Velvet Revolution. Can I get a witness?

I want a way to record and play back my dreams. I want all elective cosmetic surgery to magically reverse itself on New Year's Day, 2005. I want to learn how to play the theremin, how to operate a letterpress and how to make a perfect piecrust. I want to take more naps. I want a flock of swallows to follow me everywhere I go. I wanna play on the monkey bars. I want a pony. I want my mommy.

I want everyone in America to read the same book at the same time. I want a birth control pill for men. I'll have the veggie plate. I want Halle Berry to quit it, already. I want Godard to make a decent movie again. I want a Trader Joe's to open in Orlando. And a decent breakfast place. Baby needs a new pair of shoes. I'd like to start a tab, please. I should very much enjoy the pleasure of your company. I'd like to have a word with you. I want to be in full compliance. Make mine a double.

I want a chocolate soup bowl. I want a candle that smells like a library. I want perfume that smells like rain on hot asphalt. I want a diamond ring. I want an Airstream trailer. I want my hairdresser to move back from New York. I want wasabi-flavored Jell-O. I want a typewriter for my charm bracelet. I want new sunglasses. I want Pucci underwear. I want a square egg press.

I'll take Manhattan, the Bronx and Staten Island too. I want you to want me. I wanna be adored. Now I wanna be your dog. I wanna see a sea of hands out there. I just want your extra time and your kiss. Could someone carefully replace the jams, please?

I want a personal astrologer. I want an iBook, even though it will just sit on my desk, and an iPod, even though I never walk anywhere. I wish my apartment had maid service and room service. I want a subscription to the New York Times, and time to read it.

I want a bathtub carved out of quartz. I want a digital DVD projector and a white bedsheet. I want new down pillows. I want my Adidas jacket back. I wish I had detachable arms (but not artificial ones, no amputation, thanks). I want fresh flowers. I want the new Vivienne Westwood book. I want a wooden bicycle. I want a John Currin painting. I want a Gregory Crewdson photograph. I want gravity boots. I want a pound of feathers. I want a new sofa. I want to go to Paris. And Tokyo. And Iceland. I want the Leonard Bernstein Young People's Concerts DVD box set. I want a Tivoli Kloss table radio. I want a box of glass eyeballs. I want a new cell phone. I want a monkey and an ocelot. I want a coat made out of licorice and a Styrofoam trumpet. Oh, and world peace. Wrap it up – I'll take it.

About The Author

Jessica Bryce Young

Jessica Bryce Young has been working with Orlando Weekly since 2003, serving as copy editor, dining editor and arts editor before becoming editor in chief in 2016.
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