So according to some people (or “idiots” as I like to call them) the world is going to end on Saturday. Judging from the shit ass weather we’ve had this week, it’s possible the sun is dead and we’re on the cusp of the apocalypse. In all likelihood, however, there are going to be a lot of jack asses feeling incredibly stupid tomorrow. Like the dude who lives in NYC who spent his life savings on ads announcing the Rapture. What’s he going to do when he wakes up on Sunday and realizes he has to pay his rent on June 1st? Not smart, dude. Not smart.
For a moment, let us pretend tomorrow really marks the end of days. This is it, we’re all going to die and be sent off to heaven or hell or whatever people believe. How would you spend your last night?
For me, I would spend it drinking milkshakes and champagne (though not together), eating fried foods, and with Ryan Reynolds arms wrapped around me. Let’s just be clear on one thing – there wouldn’t be a shirt in sight. We would die knowing he’d be shirtless for all eternity. And you know what? That’s okay with me.
The advantage of the world ending is I’d never ever have to listen to another NPR pledge drive, sit in traffic, or listening to someone talk about American Idol. Guess there are some good things about this so-called wrath of God.