|If you see this when you look out the window,|
don't bother going to the gym
In case you didn't know, according to the Mayan Calendar, today, Friday, December 20, 2012 is the end of the world. I hope you got all your shopping done.
People have been asking me, "Man, what will you do when the end of the world comes?" They've also been asking me, "Do you mind curbing your dog?" and "Are you really going to wear that?" My answer to the first question, is a clear, unequivocal, "I haven't decided." Computer solitaire and sleeping are near the top of the list, as is watching re-runs of Dobie Gillis. One thing I can say is that I regret that we have eaten all the Thin Mints and Samoans; this isn't a day you want to be caught without a freezer full of Girl Scout Cookies.
While I haven't decided what I will be doing, I've got a pretty firm grasp on what I won't. For example, I won't be cleaning the leaves out of the gutters. This is not a pleasant activity in the first place, but will be even less so given the molten balls of lava spewing through the air and the birds of carrion seeking to pick flesh from the living and dead alike. This pretty much explains why I'll avoid going outside altogether, for example, going to the gym. I definitely won't be going to the gym. Driving anywhere will be a complete mess what with groaning zombies stumbling around searching for human brains to eat and blocking the intersections. By the time you get anywhere, the giant Black Hole will have opened up a fissure in space/time and sucked all matter in the universe into a pinhead-size singularity. Then try to find a parking place. I figure as far as the gym goes, if I don't have six-pack abs by now, I'm never going to have them.
Since we can rule out leaving the house - why even bother to check the mail? You know that's going to run late - we can also cross off getting dressed along with taking a shower and changing our underwear.
"But, Man," I hear you protest, "surely you don't want to stand before Saint Peter in last night's whitey-tighties?" I say, why not? Why should he get off the hook?
To recap, while my plans are not completely finalized, I'll be staying in today. Assuming the utilities folks are chumps enough to keep the electricity and cable running, I'll be watching Dobie Gillis. If not, my computer battery lasts seven hours, so I'll be playing computer solitaire. I'll probably be playing computer solitaire in any case. We don't have Girl Scout Cookies, an oversight for which I blame myself although clearly the person at fault is really Nancy, so I'll be digging out the brownie recipe and cooking up a couple of pans of those.
If you come pounding at my door screaming about how the graves have yawned and yielded up their shrieking dead, and fiery legions fight in squadrons in the sky, dripping blood and flames onto the ground, and people mad with terror flee they know not where, and the owl of night has been seen by day, I'll have only this to tell you.
Make your own damn brownies.