Your wish is granted...

Granted, but now everything alive on the planet is sterile, including the plants and animals.

I wish I were more motivated.

Granted. Richard Simmons is now literally attached to your hip.

I wish I could read minds.

Do to recent budget cuts in our regional offices the best we can do is this custom Magic 8 Ball.
Just think of the person you're trying to read and speak your question out loud.
"Does she like me?"
*shakey shakey*
"Unclear. I would suggest a phone call."




I wish I could create a digital person that would handle all of my shopping - freeing up my time for the more important things - like playing AW word games.

You can, but only if you see someone's brain directly. It doesn't work if they're still alive. Or if the brain isn't fresh.

I wish for candy.

Granted. It is super-hard peanut brittle, and it tastes great. Too bad it breaks off two of your teeth.

I wish I could meet rejection with a smile.

Granted. All it takes is practice, practice, practice! I have arranged it so that you will have plenty of opportunities to perfect this ability for the rest of your life. You're welcome.

I wish I had x-ray vision.

Granted. But your X-ray vision works only in medical X-ray departments.There you can have lots of fun looking at femurs, clavicals, radiuses, ulnas, astragaluses, fractured craniums, etc.

I wish my current, nagging problem would resolve itself soon.

Granted. You no longer nag anyone. As a result, you rarely get what you want. (Except, of course, this time.)

I wish I wasn't actually shy.

Your wish is granted, and you are no longer actually shy--just virtually so, which unfortunately makes your on-line interactions highly awkward, difficult, and exhausting.

I wish someone would develop a low-carb pina colada.

Granted, the carburetor on your pina colada is now mounted on the base of your glass. Be sure to prime it with alcohol if the engine gets wet.

I wish I had a million more wishes.

Granted. But, surprisingly, you run out of things to wish for around the 3,678 mark. The wish Genie is angered by your wasting of wishes and revokes everything he/she had previously granted. Unfortunately, the whole, "You don't miss what you've never had," thing no longer applies to you, and everything you do have left gets sold to support your expensive need for antidepressants.

I wish I owned a helicopter.

Granted! You now own a helicopter. It's kept at a small airfield outside Kuala Lumpur.

I wish someone else would do my Christmas shopping for me this year.

Granted. The Genie will do your Christmas shopping for you this year. (Of course, there will be a small charge involved...)

I wish I had the gift of prophecy.

Granted. Unfortunately, what has been seen can never be unseen. You now wish you had never wished that.

I wish you hadn't told me what you'd seen.

Granted. I told you I saw you stepping in front of a herd of stampeding elephants and told you about it, but okay...if you don't want to know...you're on your own...



I wish the world's finest restaurants would deliver my dinner each night--free of charge.

Granted. Many of these restaurants are French, and famous for their very high calorie sauces and desserts. Soon you have grown so large you can no longer make your way to the door to answer it when dinner is delivered. The delivery person shrugs and leaves. The restaurants stop delivering. Ironically, you starve to death from malnutrition (your lack of potassium combined with excessive weight lead to a fatal heart attack) before the lack of calories leads to enough weight loss to enable you to correct the situation.

I wish I could get that "hug from the universe/Buddhism in a bottle" feeling that oxy provides from something innocuous, like milk.

Granted, the genie has stocked your refrigerator full of oxycontin laced milk.

I wish I had a home office with a door.

Unfortunately, your wish was picked up by one of our noobs - and they are grossly underfed underpaid - so they have difficulty concentrating on the task at hand. He decided to take a very liberal interpretation of 'home'. Your new 'home' is inside the belly of a creature that slinks along the bottom of the ocean. The belly is indeed home to a scaly creature with many rows of teeth and they have shared many a meal. You're in luck because he's bloated from his last kill and won't be hungry for a few days. You should be able to get quite a bit of work in. Oh and almost forgot. Here's your door.




I wish I had someone on the sidelines that could give me a swift kick in the ass, whenever posting something that could only be explained by a pique of insanity.

Umm granted.

There's no 'evil genie' at play here, but given your propensity for posting the inane and insane you will be very sore.


I wish I could meditate myself into a zen state of absolute peace with the Universe.

Granted. Apparently all you have to do is raid my fridge.

I wish I had a tiny house with infinite closet space.

Granted. But your tiny house is a doll's house, so naturally the Genie confuses you with Nora Helmer, and once you walk out that door there's no telling where you'll end up.

I wish I had a coach-and-four.

Granted! But the Genie is a big fan of Disney films, and your coach-and-four consists of a pumpkin and four rats. Pity you didn't wish for the Fairy Godmother as well...

I wish I had the Unabridged Oxford English Dictionary installed in my brain.

Granted. We've installed the Dictionary to the back of your head (blame the contractors - they never get anything right), with a coin slot that allows the user one word for a quarter. True - this day and age - who needs a device like that. All but that poor sap, with a busted cell and a roll of quarters chasing you.
"Just one more word. Please stop!"


I wish for a device that could take those troublesome thoughts and generate a new form of money that can be traded to the street corner poets.

Your wish has already been granted. They're called books.

I wish for a book of cryptogram puzzles.

Granted.

Genie sometimes mixes vowels up. You were planning to use the book on the toilet anyhow, right?
Just... you know, make sure to wash up after.

I wish I had the wit of Samuel Clemens (when he was alive and writing).