Holy shit I wish I had two hundred fifty grand. Oh how nice life would be to get away from the sick inner-city ghetto and be out with 40 acres to f**k around on all day long. Look at them hills. I bet wildflowers pop up on them in the Springtime. The air probably smells fresh there (besides from cow dung that is). With all that territory, I could have all the cats and dogs I want, plus some pigs for bacon suet and turkeys and Llamas and ostriches... It comes with a barn, too, so I could stock it with illegal Mexicans to live there to help me keep the grass mowed! F**k, how can I get $250 grand so I can get the hell out of Silicon Valley before I friggen DIE of boredom? Who owes me money? Who?
