Really, I don't neeeeeeeeeed minions. I fricking WANT them. Like right now, some of them would be folding the mountain of laundry and putting it away, some would be deep cleaning the kitchen (to include cleaning out the fridge - I haaaaaate that job), some would be scrubbing The Hubs' bathroom (because you can't pay me enough to clean that nasty ass germ factory - and no, I don't use it, therefore, I don't clean it), some would be going through all the shit in the garage that still needs gone through, some would be taking down the Christmas decorations that are still up, and most importantly...
SOME WOULD GO TO STARBUCKS FOR ME. WHENEVER I WANTED THEM TO. And they'd never need to ask what I wanted, because they're my fucking minions, so they already know.
Ahh... the thought is just so delicious. And when I say "minion", I don't mean the little yellow-goggle-wearing things from Despicable Me (which I hated, and I think I'm the only person who didn't like that movie), but cabana boys. Scantily clad cabana boys. Foldin' up the laundry. Mmm... mama likey.
Back to your regularly scheduled programming.