If you’re reading this, WHY?!?!
Get the hell back in your bunker immediately!
Today, the world will end!
Although, nobody has been specific on exactly what time. Or how. Or where this will all start. Apparently, not New Zealand. Or Samoa. Or Saipan. Because it’s been Friday in these locales for quite some time… and as far as we know, everybody is OK.
I just want to know exactly how much time I’ve got left. There’s a whole bottle of whiskey in the freezer. Should I be slugging it?
I haven’t watched last night’s X-Factor finale. Do you think I’ll have time? Do you think I care?
I never got the opportunity to slap my 10th Grade English teacher straight across the mouth. Should I go track her down? How many hours do I have? How many minutes?
I still haven’t expressed to the world my undying love for Sinead O’Connor.
What about figgy pudding? I guess I’m facing my impending doom without trying this dessert. Is it a dessert? I don’t even know!
Or how about my lifelong dream to Sweat to the Oldies with Richard Simmons? Talk about first signs of the Apocalypse.
What about Dallas? How are they going to off J.R. this time? The world shall never know.
And I was really looking forward to New Year’s Eve. I was going to play a drinking game: every time Ryan Seacrest said, “Dick Clark,” we would all drink. And nobody would see the clock strike 12. Pipe dreams, all of it.
At any rate, it’s been lovely speaking with everyone. Just when this blog was hitting its stride. And it all comes crashing down.
I leave you, my friends, with these tunes:
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