Serious post #5

"I hate old people."

"Wow. You're such an ageist!"

"Fuck you, ageist isn't a word."

It is.

This is not a post about zombies. So if you're a zombie, you don't need to read this at all. Like, at all. Look, brains! Over there! Waaaayyy there!

Haha, suckers. So now that all zombies who could potentially read this post are gone, I need to impart knowledge that could save the world to all of my ten followers. Yes, you. You...are the chosen ones. The fucking chosen ones. The ones who will determine the fate of the earth as we know it. An incredible adventure begins now: you will have to fight to protect innocent lives, kill the bad guys, walk with your swag on, steal cars and then drive them down mountains for no apparent reason. And you will have to blow the shit out of everything. The very future of humanity rests on your ability to blow the living shit out of stuff.

I will now stop emphasizing the swear words in this article.

Some of you (well, one of you) expressed concern over the fact that I have not posted on this blog lately. And while nothing could possibly tear me away from my worthy duty, a very serious situation has forced me to go into hiding. Yes, real hiding, with the underground protection shelter and crappy powdered food and leather suit everything. And let me tell you folks, leather pants are no easy business. They make me look fat.

Me, fat.

Its because I saw a zombie.

An authentic, live zombie!

See what I did there?

I understand the need to be truthful to you, my faithful warriors. Never should you take anything for face value in this deceptive day and age (Damn that filthy lying imbecile who told me Pokemon were real. Goddamn him). But trust me here - we're the only ones who have the power to rid society of this danger. After all, if not the world wide web, what other place is left for me to be my true self? Safeway? So from me to you and Google: a record of my first, real-world encounter with a zombie - bit by excruciating bit.

It was a dark and stormy night, and as I walked across the seemingly empty parking lot to my yellow sportscar after a night of wild joy and revelry, I felt a deathly chill in the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a man down on the blood-soaked tarmac. Was it too late to save him? I noticed with grief that the man seemed to have half his brains missing. It was, indeed, too late to save him. Something evil was afoot tonight.

But even I was not prepared for what I saw. It was a monstrosity we have only heard of before. There it stood fearlessly, in all its gruesome glory. Over six feet tall and built like a quarter back, it was the color of putrid flesh and smelled just as nasty. It wore the tattered remains the poor body had been buried in. A zombie. My trusty DShK I'd picked up from the last time I was in Russia had been left behind at home. A dumb mistake that could cost me my life. I panicked - he was only a hand's width away now. It was the sight of the fresh human brains hanging from his dead, unworthy lips that shocked me into action.

Did I mention he had glowing yellow eyes and resembled the COD zombies?

In a state of desperation, I whipped off a hairpin and stabbed those inhuman eyes. Even though at a temporary disadvantage, the monster kept grabbing at me with rotten hands, drawing blood wherever he clawed. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before he could grab a hold of me and make me one of his own hateful species. I thought of all those people who mattered to me, all those people who loved me (Hey, people who love me! Anyone? Hi? Do you wanna maybe go for a smoothie after you kill the zombies? No one?) With a sudden burst of courage, I leapt up straight into the air, and gracefully kicked the zombie in the face.

Pictured here: An accurate representation of the scene

I succeeded in eliminating him, but who's to say he was the only one? Its a pretty good bet he made lots of new friends before his sad, untimely demise. As I retreat into the shadowy corners of our world, gathering information and more forces, it falls onto you to exterminate this despicable plague. Not many people will believe you. Many will make fun of you, and others will doubt your sanity. But it is a small price to pay (and anyway, they probably already do) for a better world. A safer world. A world where children can go out to play, a world where you have no doubt that that hot person definitely does not like you for your brains. Ah, life's small mercies. But till then, embrace your duty. Best of luck.

Godspeed, my soldiers.

My conversation with the hottest guy at work who looks a bit like superman, the not-gay one

What actually happens:

Me: Hey! Whatsuup??

The guy: Hi.

I don't own sunglasses.

What I wish would happen:

Me: Hi.

The guy: Hey hot-chick-whose-name-I-don't-know, do you wanna maybe go out sometime so I can take my shirt off for you and you can look at the deliciously manly six pack I have that is totally apparent through my office clothes?

Me: Sure, but make it fast. I got stuff to do.

Then I put on my sunglasses and walk away to AC/DC's "Back in Black."