Since it is The End of the World As We Know It, R.E.M. better stop Losing Their Religion.
I haven't seen this movie yet, but I hope to. You know, before the end ...
How can you go wrong with Steve Carell and Keira Knightley?
Proof that the end of the world is near: I called my ex-girlfriend.
No one in their right mind would call my ex.
If you're my ex; and you're reading this, you should know that I mean a different ex. Duh!* It's just a coincidence that I called you too. So then, no need for the ax, ex.
Sure, she's a little high strung. But we always made each other laugh.
I mean, when she wasn't trying to kill me.
I don't think she meant to try to kill me; she just doesn't know how to cook.
And she likes to chop.
Chop till I drop.
I mean, when she wasn't trying to kill me.
I don't think she meant to try to kill me; she just doesn't know how to cook.
And she likes to chop.
Chop till I drop.
Photo Source: http://www.slasherstudios.com/2012/01/29/slasher-studios-the-best-and-the-worst-of-the-friday-the-13th-final-girls/
From "Friday the 13th, Part 3"
From "Friday the 13th, Part 3"
I could write a county song: "All My Exes Swing Axes".
Who knew lumberjacks could be so cute?
Or are they called lumberjills?
My exes are cool with me joking about them being ax-murderers. 'Cause they can always joke about how most of their exes always lose their heads.
Most. But not me.
So far.
So the world is ending, but on the bright side, the chipper-dipper bright side, at least it's not my fault! (As I feared in my blog post: Eyewitness Proof That Life Existed on Other Planets!)
But on the dark side, the chumper-dumper dark side, the world is coming to an end.
In the meantime, I'm doing all I can to prepare myself for a cataclysmic crisis of this magnitude:
Repenting, praying, and eating chocolate.
Well, at least two out of three. Unless groaning, "Man! I shouldn't have eaten all that chocolate!" counts as repentance.
Or at least one out of three, if shouting with glee: "Thank You for the chocolate!" doesn't count as a prayer.
Another point scored for the chipper-dipper bright side is that having the world end can be very liberating. You no longer have to diet. You can order seconds of your favorite treats. Thirds even!
You become free to explore options you might have otherwise ignored. But be careful, you still have to give an account of yourself when you get to the other side.
Photo Source: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B002M5DCII
Koppers Dark Chocolate Covered Ginger, 5-Pound Bag
What? You think I'm gonna start watching my weight now?!
I'm also pondering women with whom I can elope.
Might as well get married. "Till death does us part" doesn't sound so intimidating when it's only gonna last for a few months at the most.
Of course, if the world doesn't end in a few months, then yikes! Right?
That would be like a nagging hangover that never ends.
Plenty of lovely ladies work out at the gym! But if all I wanted was looks, I'd already be with them. But alas, I have an array of soulful, emotional needs: Sense of humor, heart of gold, ownership of a chocolate factory.
You know, the basics.
I'd also prefer someone who can juggle and play the harp. But I don't want to come across as too picky. At least not this close to, gulp!, the end.
Now that I think about it, I should look for someone who can stop, or at least postpone for another century or two, the end of the world.
That would make sense. But if she doesn't own a chocolate factory, I don't think I'd be interested.
I have to draw the line somewhere.
Hmm. I wonder what the Hershey heiresses look like?
Or what about the Dove Chocolate Divas?
One of them must play the harp.
Should I get back with my ex? The world's gonna end soon anyway. Right?
But even the sounds of forthcoming cataclysmic events can't silence the inner voice that readily reminds me: She's your ex for a reason.
On the other hand, during a Zombie Apocalypse, I could use a sexy sidekick adept at wielding an ax.
"Go for the head, babe. Go for the head. The zombie's head! Not mine!! Babe?"
Blessings & Joy,
Dean
* Speaking of the word "Duh!", I formed a scientific theory: The older a person is, the more he/she/it hates to hear the word "Duh!" said to him/her/undecided.
* Speaking of the word "Duh!", I formed a scientific theory: The older a person is, the more he/she/it hates to hear the word "Duh!" said to him/her/undecided.
That's "The Dean Theory for the Word Duh!". Everyone in the scientific community agrees with me too. Because when they hear my theory, they always say: "Duh!" Which is science speak for: "This is most certainly true."
No comments:
Post a Comment