leave your inhibitions at the door
Sorry to say, but I’m leaving. But if it makes you feel any better, this is probably one of the last posts you’ll ever read. Yes, the Mayan Apocalypse is now upon us.
I have this theory that the world is going to end in different ways for different people. I figure since armageddon will take one day instead of a slow death, it’s got to be some weird Twilight Zone stuff that’s going to happen. And it’s going to be tailor made for your worst nightmare. It’s not going to be a hail of asteroids, raining down on you like some post-Thai food shitstorm – unless that’s what you’d hate to happen. For some people it could be a plague of frogs. Or it could be a tsunami if you’re afraid of the water. For me, it’ll come in the form of being trapped in a Trader Joe’s with a parade of clowns singing this song:
Am I the only person on the face of the soon-to-be-extinct world that can’t stand Adele?
I didn’t really buy into this whole apocalypse thing, until last night. I was sitting around drinking my all-time favorite beer:
I looked at the label and realized that the name is French for “The End of the World.” I saw it as a sign. Now I’m sitting here contemplating all the things that I haven’t done and places I haven’t visited. But worst of all, I’m starting to feel regret. So I want to use this last post as a confessional to come clean with a few things before a bunch of aliens come down, stick nine inch needles in our nipples and twist them before setting us on fire with their laser beam eyes –
1. I don’t look like this.
I really look like this.
2. My favorite restaurant is Applebees.
3. I voted Republican
4. I really don’t find Anne Hathaway attractive.
5. I talked about Fight Club
Whew, that felt better. I’m really glad I got that off my chest before giant cracks in the earth open up to swallow me down into the abyss.
So I thought I’d say sayonara now with one last Guilty Pleasure song for this horrendous occasion. The first song that came to mind was R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as We Know It” but that was tooooo obvious. Then I was thinking Europe’s “Final Countdown” would be right in my hair-metal-as-guilty-pleasure wheelhouse. But it’s not like there’s actually going to be a countdown. It’s going to happen when you least expect it. So I figured I’d go Broadway on you.
Damn, I’m going to miss you all. Is there is anything you want to confess to?