Stranger Than Fiction

If this is the beginning of the apocalypse, I’m telling y’all right now....there’s no hope for me. None. Stick a fork in me...I’m done. *rhyming intended. 

Recently my husband and I decided to binge watch the film genre I like to refer to as doomsday. Why we keep doing this to ourselves is beyond me but we do. Clearly the news isn’t pumping our adrenaline enough. 

Clearly. 

Our first week into quarantine we viewed Contagion. 

I advise all of you to watch this movie-if you haven’t already and even if you have, you should still give it another go. 

Much of the plot is fiction imitating real life! Our current real life. The only difference being, they have toilet paper. 

Our last movie marathon included: The Crazies, The Happening and Escape from L.A. We had to do something to break up the freak show which Escapes did the trick but by the time we got to it...I came to the full conclusion I AM NOT CUT OUT TO SURVIVE AN APOCALYPTIC EVENT. I’m too fucking delicate, y’all. 

Honestly, I’m sure I could kick apocalyptic ass but I’m just not too positive I want to. 

I’m okay with it. I have accepted it. I have my reasons why. So get cozy and ready to laugh at my expense. No, really you can....I give you my full blessing to laugh your ass off because a) I’m a lost cause and b) we need funny now more than ever. 

My Reasons Why Me and The Apocalypse Won’t Work Out...for your comic relief. 

1. I can’t really shoot a gun. Although I used to own one...I’m not really comfortable with them. The only reason I had one in the first place was because I worked two dangerous jobs together: a women’s health clinic and a domestic abuse shelter. Once I left these jobs, the gun went with them! My weapon of choice would be a machete and let’s face it...where the fuck am I going to find a machete during an apocalypse? Now I know there are places that carry these slice ‘em and dice ‘em little diddy’s but I haven’t exactly been looking and/or even thinking about apocalyptic protective gear until recently. I’m not a conspiracy prepper and I’m not even sure where the This Will Protect Your Ass storefront is. I mean are these things next to the toy aisle in big box stores? Do I order this online? Do I have to find a ‘surviving the jungle’ shop in order to get said machete?  And once I purchase it can I call it Ma. Chet. Tay or can I call it Mac the Ma. Chet. Tay! Can I paint it green? My favorite color. Can I dazzle it up with some jewels? Will it kill me before I can kill an enemy? 👈🏼 More on this question later. Finally...do I need training in how to use my Ma. Chet. Tay or do I just go all Willy Nilly with it and hope for the best? Is it like riding a bike? You know, intimidating at first but once you get the hang of it your vrooming all over the place? These are my concerns and surely you see where my dilemma lies? 
2. I’m a woman and I’m not trying to survive an apocalypse while simultaneously trying NOT to get raped! It’s inevitable some creep or creeps will cross my path...an apocalypse hasn’t prevented this from occurring already so why would the end times change this douchebag behavior? These jokers will get the fight of their lifetime but still...I have a 50/50 shot of living through our worldly obsession with rape culture...twice! I’m tough but I’m small..which again is another reason why I need the machete I can’t find. Seriously though...can we stop with the sexual assault! It took me years to open up about what happened to me and even longer to heal from it and NO ONE...I MEAN ABSOLUTELY NO ONE deserves this type of personal invasion AND JUST SPEAKING CANDIDLY FOR MY GENDER...it’s time WE STEP UP and HONOR OUR WOMEN!!! We do play HUGE role in creation after all and we need protection. Not because we are the weaker sex...because we’re not...most us can run circles around dudes...but because...WE ARE IMPORTANT AND WE MATTER! Get your rocks off like the rest us and masturbate. No means no. Unconsciousness doesn’t mean take advantage and provocative clothing isn’t an invite. Back off, buckos! Being  a rape(y) violator will only lead to a terrible after life or at the very best a next life filled with horrific karmic repercussions. Your choice. 
3. I have insane allergies that cause coughing and sneezing fits which then leads to an all day event of blowing my nose. Anything can set this off! Smells, certain foods, bug bites, dust, dirt, pet hair, my hair...anything. I’m not the girl in the bubble but I’m close. Lol. And for the record, this hasn’t been fun during a damn viral pandemic. I’m certain one of these times, my allergy attack is going to be mistaken for Covid-19! I’m going to get stoned to death by some disgruntled store patron or set on fire by men in hazmat suits...in the middle of the produce section. “I don’t have Covid, I swear. That lady taking a bath in her perfume set off the sneezing fit...I swear...nooooooo!!!!!!!” Conclusion: I’m not winning here at all. 
4. I have the bladder of a toddler! In every movie about our final days and post those last days, no one ever has to pee? There’s no Amy telling Phil, “Watch my back while I squat by this tree real quick.” Ever! Meanwhile, I’m hitting the wash room every hour if not every half hour like it’s my job. I’ve traveled all over the world and I can tell you this...I have visited every toilet in every city...at every place. Possibly a couple of times. I once traveled to Pisa, Italy and you know what?  I couldn’t find the leaning tower. Who can’t find a massively old tower that fucking leans? This lady couldn’t...that’s who...but I did find places to pee....a few actually so I guess it all worked out in the end. Said me never. To this day, I’m still perplexed about how I got so turned around trying to find this fucking building. Have you been? Is it nice? I hear it is....I wouldn’t know though. Must be nice to take those ‘leaning tower photographs.’ I will find you one day, Tower! That cliché touristy photo will be mine!!!! My bladder’s active lifestyle might subside if there isn’t access to water like there is now but still, if my allergies aren’t going to get me caught, pissing surely will. I can see it now...my trousers down to my ankles while I’m getting taken out by some half dead psycho or some weirdo who wants my Ma. Chet. Tay or just me. Let’s not even get into having to poop....because where the fuck is anyone going to shit when toilets are obsolete? Just saying. But since I mentioned this...do zombies even poop? Apparently no one has to do any bathroom business during the end of times because I haven’t seen one character in any film or show take a potty break. This isn’t reassuring to my tiny bladder in any way shape or form. At least there’s still those shower scenes though....so I guess that’s promising? Speaking of Zombies....the only realistic zombie film out there is Shawn of the Dead. In my opinion. It’s the only movie that shows an army rescuing its citizens within 24 to 48 hours of an outbreak. I appreciate you Norman Reedus and your Walking Dead crew but damn, did the zombies eat everyone? Where’s the President? Where’s the military? Where are all the bunker people? Somewhere in this show are all the bunker people living it up...with all the food, weapons and probably toilet paper. Y’all haven’t found them yet but I know they exist. They always exist....and how many seasons of this show needs to go on before someone figures out how to set all these fuckers on fire? Molotov cocktails can’t be that hard to make, right? What about explosive fire crackers? Makeshift torches thrown into the undead crowd? I mean...something’s gotta give...if you could find a tiger for some dude named The Majesty, surely you can find some way to kill zombies en masse. That’s just me though. 
5. I usually can’t sleep unless I’m in my own bed. I love traveling but damn if this doesn’t get me most trips. I’m particular! I need a fan. I can’t sleep if there’s snoring. I can’t sleep if there is a t.v on! I prefer to sleep in colder bedroom temp...because my body temperature naturally runs hot. I need the bed to be soft but not too soft. I need it to be hard but not too hard. I need at least two pillows! One for my head and one to slide in between my legs. I require a certain amount of blankets and they have to have the perfect ratio of weight and airiness to them. My husband teases me because he says I’m terrible at cuddling. I’m not. I like to snuggle but not while sleeping. We can love on each other for a few minutes but when the dosing starts, we need to get to our appointed sides. Which mine should actually be closer to the wash room but he insists on being closer to the bedroom door...incase he needs to rescue us from a home invasion. Such chivalry. It should also be known that his body heat is far worse than mine so cuddling under blankets beside him, is the equivalent to sleeping next to furnace. “Get off me!!” Also, I’m there to sleep not to be suffocated like a stuffed bear. And forget using a sheet...they terrify me. Yes, it’s true. An inanimate object scares the shit out of me. This is due to a college experience where I had one choking me out mid sleep. I had tossed and turned all night to where eventually the sheet became ever so tightly wrapped around my neck a few times. I essentially woke up gasping for air in an unintentional suicide attempt. After that, sheets became null and void. I don’t use them and I can’t stand them. Not to mention, what’s the point? They either end up around my neck or smooshed at the end of the bed. It’s just an extra layer getting in the way of a good night’s rest. Literally I’m like Goldie Locks or the Princess from Princess and the Pea when it comes to sleep. I admire and envy anyone who can crash out anywhere at any time! Especially on long flights, train rides, or road trips. Shoot....I’m even envious of chair naps. My husband takes those...why can’t I? I can’t do any of these things and there’s no way I could hack fighting evil when I have had zero sleep. Take me out so I can finally take a nap! Then again, maybe I could kick some serious ass because sleep deprivation has me raging the fuck out. Like...YOU GOTS TO DIE BECAUSE I NEED SOME SHUT EYE!!! Hmmmm??? What a spin this has been. 
6. As I always point out, I’m a proud Taurean and there are three things we are known for: our stubbornness, our need for comfort, and most importantly our love of food. During times of despair, we do rise up and I dare say you’d want a Taurus fighting next to you in battle. We’re loyal AF and extremely protective but when it comes to food, we’ll cut a bitch for some grub. Even our own besties can be taken out for that last piece of cake. All things considered, what the fuck am I going to eat? I need chocolate and fruit and coffee and delicious yum-yums to keep me sustained. Hanger is a real issue, people and mix being hungry with being sleep deprived and I, for one, become a scary monster ready to pounce. The only way to tame this wild beast is by throwing her some snacks. It’s not a pretty picture, y’all. Ever see The Exorcist? Well, that bitch has nothing on a starving Taurus! My husband knows when this devil rears its ugly head to feed it...and feed it fast. And honestly, the last thing the world needs during an apocalypse is a bunch of hungry bulls running around on top of all the pandemonium. I really don’t know which would be worse? The world coming to a disastrous end or the wrath of a Taurean’s involuntarily hunger strike? No Taurus will ever involuntarily give up the vittles. If you’re a Taurus or know a Taurus, you understand the severity of this problem and you might as well accept your fate being the death over a sandwich versus an end days sacrificial killing. 
7. I still have P.M.S....not the “Oh, my uterus is shedding its lining...what a lovely day,” kind of menstrual cycle but Micheal Myers taking up residence in my insides. This is also known as endometriosis. Which means Aunt Flo turns into Ms. Stabby Stab for hours and days on end...for weeks on end. Aunt Flo is an asshole and I hate her visits most months...I’m not ready to not have a period but most months I play the fun game of deciding which activity I can’t do: sit, stand, walk, or rest. Instead of taking out the zombies that are trying to eat my brain and body or fighting a character like person from The Purge, I’ll be stuck in the fetal position coercing my cramps to go away. “Can you come back in seven days to ten days? No? That’s what I thought.” I’m fucked. Fucked! Fucked! Fuuuuuucccckkkked! No joke. I’m a goner first premenstrual month.
8. I need hot water. Specifically to wash my hands and body. My nightly shower routine keeps me sane. It’s my relaxing ritual and I’m not ashamed to admit my dependence on this first world luxury. Furthermore, I can’t deal with dirty hands. Who can? Wait. Don’t answer that...we’re in a pandemic because people love the filth. Soap and water and clean hands are confusing. I mean...we’re fucking here because human beings are, for the most part, disgusting and lazy individuals who can’t be bothered with mundane practices like washing hands. And I don’t know about you, but for some reason-without fail, I always walk into a public wash room where women are ALWAYS shitting. Always. It’s not a problem...it’s a wash room and we all poop but recently I had the “pleasure” of listening to a woman drop a deuce like she was delivering a child. We walked out of our stalls coincidentally at that time but while I headed for the sink, she proceeded to the door and walked out. She. Fucking. Walked. Out! 🤢🤮 Leaving me stunned that whatever happened next to me, didn’t deserve a thorough hand cleaning afterwards. I wanted to go after her and call her out but I was too busy washing my own hands and trying desperately to get this grotesque move out of my mind. Yeah, lady. I saw you and that shit was gnarly. At that point, you should just eat your own feces straight from the toilet because that’s essentially what you are doing when you can’t stop for 20 seconds to throw a little soap and water on those delicate digits of yours. 🤢🤮🤬
9. Dictatorship. I’m not an anarchist but at almost 40, I’m not trying to listen to anybody tell me what I can and can’t do-within reason of course. I don’t have a problem with rules and during this pandemic I have done everything my governor has asked but for some reason during a crisis, there’s always some leader that controls the group...because apparently the group has lost all common sense or survival skills needed to make it all the way to the other side. As well as being fiercely independent, I’d like to think of myself as having ample amounts of street smarts but there will always be at least one person who thinks, I would rather cover my head with a grocery bag than put actual groceries in it. The way I am combined with some bozo trying to tell me what to do, would only create a tug of war. I don’t want to be the leader but I also don’t need to be led. I’d rather be alone with my tiny bladder, hanger hostility, and endometriosis spats than be forced to tag along behind some guy that doesn’t know shit about shit. I’d rather starve to death or be killed than be led into a cult like community where everyone seems nice at first but deep down inside they are sizing you up to either be a worker bee, a food source, or and an incubator for birthing children. I’m not doing it. I’m not having it...I’m not going to be a part of this...I’m checking out, y’all. I’m checking out.
10. Large group mentality scares me. I don’t trust crowds or groups...unless I know every single person like the back of my hand...and let’s get real for a second...no one knows anyone the way they know themselves. Unfortunately, when panic sets in you have what we are experiencing now...a whole bunch of mindless twits running around collecting goods and guns and conspiracy theories. We live in a cutthroat society and let’s just say I have something a hitchhiker wants, what’s to stop them from taking what isn’t theirs? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. If someone wants something bad enough...they will go to any great length to get it. These actions have been around long before this pandemic came about and throw desperation on the table, moral codes and decency are thrown out the window. It sounds tragic because it is but it’s the truth. Straight up facts and it’s better to know this now than assume during an apocalypse everyone will be perfectly, well-behaved angels conducting themselves in a mature and virtuous manner. If that were the case, our real lives wouldn’t be filled with so many stories about someone doing something awful to someone else. And as much I try to have faith in humanity, there’s a reason why I’m always looking over my shoulder. I just don’t trust the way I used to-when I was young and naive and always looking for the best in people. I have been burned too many times by this fakery....by snakes in the grass, by wolves wearing sheep’s fur. These people are out there and they are ruining it for the rest of us. It may appear like I’m jaded...but I’m not...I’m just smarter and wiser and more experienced than my younger self. My perspective: until most of the world’s population chills the fuck out and stops running around like a bunch of rabid lunatics, everyone is a suspect in my book. I want to believe in you people but this chaotic shit show we are all in right now...is making this damn near impossible. I mean...I’m still trying to figure out how one lone bat went rogue on the entire fucking planet? I’m convinced I’m living in the Twilight Zone or possibly a reality show for some other alien species. And at this current juncture, I wouldn’t be surprised if aliens did actually land. At least I’d be like, “Cool. I finally get to see these fuckers before I die...’bout fucking time. While you’re here can you please take all the ass clowns back to the circus with you. Starting with the guy who leads my country. Please and thank you.” 
11. I have an attachment to chapstick. While all of you are stalking up on TP and meat and cleaning products, I’m seeking out Burts Bees Peppermint with Vitamin E Oil Chapstick. My husband jokes that I should take stock in this company and I would if they weren’t going under. His sister one year for Christmas even sent me a care package full of the stuff...she figured it would last at least for a year...a few months later I was all out. That’s like one stick every couple of weeks! I understand this addiction is my problem and could easily be fixed by not using it but when my lips get chapped, I turn hostile. It doesn’t help living in a dryer climate than most but what can I say, other than I need smooth lips...don’t judge me. I’ve already told you all I’m out so more chapstick for the rest of you, I guess? 
12. Finally, remember number one? Where I said, “more about this later”...well this is later and here is the ‘more’ I was referring to. Although, I have cat-like reflexes...I am a klutz! I am accident prone. I have sustained multiple head wounds, a broken arm, smashing my face into a chair which knocked my two front teeth out. Don’t worry, I still have all my teeth! I’ve sprained both ankles and wrists. I have *burnt the left side of my face after dropping a pot full of hot oil...to the extent that I looked the Phantom from The Phantom of the Opera for a month or so. *FYI...Vitamin E Oil is the miracle oil...it saved my face! I walk into walls and objects. I trip over my own feet. I trip over my cat. I drop things. I poke myself in the eyes. I get into fights with doughnuts and my seatbelt. Yes, this has happened too. I run into my bed post on a nightly basis...literally every time I get up to pee and darkness is never the reason why....just me walking that’s all. And quite frankly ‘ouch’ is a frequently used word in my life. It usually goes like this, “Ouch! Mother fucker, fucking shit!” And because I know this about myself, I never really put myself in risky situations. If someone is going to get hurt, it will be me. I’m sure of it. I can bet money on it and win. Big time! An injury of some sort is a normal day for me. Bruised because I was awake. Shit, I’ve even tugged a cord of a large radio and dropped it on my head in the middle of sleeping. I’m not even safe sleeping! So with that said, do I really want to own a large knife that will most likely but ‘accidentally’ take my leg out by just walking with it on my side? Will I croak on spoiled food because I was ravished and too hungry to worry about stupid dates? Will I fall into a zombie pit because it looked like an outhouse? Will I fall asleep on a bee’s nest because I mistook it for a pillow in my delusional state...will my allergies to bees be the death of me? Will I survive any of the above scenarios? Maybe....but maybe not? 

Basically with this list, what I’m saying is...this bitch ‘Rona has become that one friend that has drank too much! You know, that tipping point from fun to full fledged maniac. They are now jumping on the bar and are about to start swinging from the rafters. They’ve had twelve adult bevy’s in addition to five shots of what I’m assuming is tequila. Everyone grab their personal belongings...this bitch has gone wild. Soon they’ll be fighting the bouncers then possibly you because you’re trying to force water on them when all they want is another cocktail. No more drinks, you are cutoff....you insane son-of-a-bitch. 

I appreciate the environment thriving and that’s the huge silver lining in all this but yea, this crazy fuck needs to be taken out back and put to sleep. Someone come wrangle their friend. Pronto. 

Now...I know my conclusions are all drawn from a hyper sense of awareness and somewhat stir crazy, cabin fever insanity sprinkled with Armageddon type movies but if the world does make this turn, I’m settled with knowing I’m going to be the first one out this bitch. Buh, bye. Have fun...see ya in another life. 👋✌🏼💋

Buuuuut...to ensure that this mayhem doesn’t turn into realistic world wide annihilation...more than it is already, do what your governments are asking, back up off of people, and for the love of God, wash your damn hands! We’re in this together and we need all ‘clean hands’ on deck in order to take this evil bastard out. 

With that I leave you with a quote...as I always do....because all this earlier food talk has made me ravenous. Duh...and because Alex Høgh Andersen is now my go-to for calming the pandemic paranoia down and because I just found out he’s a TAURUS (a day apart actually...I knew I liked this guy for a reason!) and because it’s about to be my favorite season: BULL SEASON! ♉️ ♉️ So here’s a nod to you, good sir! 

Happy weekend, y’all. I’m putting a beer in each room and calling it a pub crawl. 

From Twitter: 

@alex_h_andersen  Ivar has a demonic look. It will be what you think when you record the scenes in moments of anger? You're always hungry?:)

Alex: Pretty much.