The End Is Nigh

Confession time. I am could be a survivalist. Even as I write that, some strange part of my brain is craving a gun.

My husband is starting to figure it out. The amount of instant coffee in this house is starting to reach critical mass. Like pantry cupboard sagging with the weight stage.

Hubby opened the pantry last night.

“What’s with all the instant coffee?”

“Um, what?” Brain quickly telling me to look busy. Cook something. Avoid conversation. Show him a boob if he continues to talk.

“There’s like 12 jars of instant coffee here. We don’t even drink instant coffee. And why do we have 45 fucking kinds of TEA? Who’s drinking that?”

“Um, a sale?” Rapidly whipping up a brownie mix. (Okay, it’s kind of cooking.)

Hubby, eyeing the oven, starting to sniff the air (that man is part hound) “Just because there is a sale doesn’t mean you can spend $400 dollars on hot drinks!”

Me, casually flipping left boob out of t-shirt while wearing oven mitts (tricky),”Well, it seemed like a good buy SONUFABITCH!” Burning left boob on oven door while trying to look sexy.

Hubby (looking at burned boob while I am going through circus contortions to run it under cold water in kitchen sink),”Hmmmmm. When are those brownies ready?”

See, he and I have talked about this. We thumb our noses at these folks. But we watch the ‘end of the world’ docs. I watch zombie shows like they are infomercials. Then my rationality leaves and I think maybe those folks are right. And I busily make insane lists of things we need.

“We need ammo! Do we have ammo? Fuck, do we even have a gun?!?”

“Yes, we have a gun. Three.”

“Oh good. Where are they?”

“Locked in the gun cabinet in the basement. What’s with you?”

“And ammo? Where is the ammo?”

“I don’t know. Probably in the garage or something. What’s that list you have?”

“You’ll need to bring that in. Unlock the gun cabinet. And teach me to shoot. What time is it? Ten? Can you shoot at stuff at ten in this county? God, my tit hurts.”

“You are not shooting in the dark and why are you so nuts? It’s that fucking show, isn’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have turned that on!”

Okay, okay.” Hopeful eyebrows while pulling right boob out.“Do we have gas masks?”

Stony silence.

I wish I could say that this has only happened a couple of times. But this weird panic takes over every few weeks and I get all survivally. It’s very stressful.

I have books on medical and edible plants. I have planned which of our pets we’d eat first if we ran out of food. (Don’t eat dog liver! It’s poisonous. Truth. Why do I know that? And it’s the Pug, because he’s an asshole.) And every once in a while, I scare the living bejesus out of my folks.

“Hello? You need to stock up on gas and water! If the phones go out, just get your asses in the car and get here as quick as you can! Good bye!”

My mother:”Hello? Who is this? What are you talking about?” Click.

Dad:”Who was that?”

Mom:”Some nutbag. Do we have gas and water? We need some!”

Dad:”Why?”

Mom:”I don’t know, but we do!”

And off go the old folks, motoring like mad to prepare for the doomsday.

I’ll also go without showering for a few days. Not laziness *cough* but just to practice for the time when water is scarce. I’m also trying to cloud myself in a musky scent so that I’ll blend in with all the wildlife after, well, whatever is going to happen.  That does not go over with my hubby well at all. No amount of boob makes stinky wife week okay.

Now, I’m no doomsayer. For the most part, I think these people blathering on about the end of days need to get hobbies. Or jobs. Really they just need to stop scaring the shit out of folks unnecessarily. But that one weird part of my brain wonders maybe?

In the meantime, I’ll stock up in bits and pieces. But if anything happens, try to come to my place. I’ll have coffee ready for you.

Now if I could just figure out why this dog keeps hiding from me…

 

Linking up with Dude Write this week. Go on. Read. Vote. I’m proud to be a Dude!

42 thoughts on “The End Is Nigh

  1. That was officially hilarious! I love it. I get like that sometimes too, especially lately with the earthquake and the hurricane we just had in PA. I can assure you I have non perishable food, water, antibacterial sanitizer, gun, ammo, gas, flashlights, batteries, and booze just in case shit goes down.
    I am so glad I followed the link over from Studio30+!!!

    • Hi! Thanks for coming! See I need someone like you to commune with, cause I totally forgot about BOOZE!!! (Okay, maybe not. We just drink it too quickly!) 🙂

    • I know! Damn t.v. I believe everything I watch! (tongue firmly in cheek.) At least get some booze stocked up. To barter with, or for when you come to my house!

  2. Pingback: Jewels’ Gems | According to Jewels

  3. I’m seriously considering some massive stocking. I live in the middle of nowhere, and I’ve already had one nightmare about 15 feet of snow coming down this winter. Costco, here I come baby.

    P.S. found you through Jewels! love this post! lol

    • Hey! Thanks for coming over!!! And yes, stock up!!! And don’t forget booze for bartering or well, just drinking when you get snowed in!

  4. You mean zombie movies AREN’T infomercials???? Aw, crap. NOW what am I going to do with all these frikkin’ bags of rice and rolls of duct tape?
    And thank God Mrs. Penwasser talked me out of eating the dog’s liver.
    Incidentally, a boob flash always works with me. And it doesn’t even have to be cooked.

    • Al, I think you are my kindred soul. But I must ask about the duct tape. What in hell are you planning to do with that????? And truly, you are right. Raw boob is always better.

  5. Duct tape can cure everything from a broken heart to the crack of dawn. But, it should NEVER be used to cover up boobs. That would be a travesty.
    Jewels: We’re sorta like a virus.

  6. I admit, if I had the funds I would be stockpiling myself. I am just a mere mental prepper. I survey my surroundings and plan escape routes. On that note I think I should pack some bug-out bags and get licensed to own a gun, dig a hole, plant a garden, get tons of alcohol and gasoline, do some weapons training….

    I too, have burnt a man boob while cooking. I was cooking bacon without a shirt on and the grease splattered on me. I stood there and took it like a man because cooking bacon without a shirt is a manly thing to do!

  7. Your man is broken. Naked boobs and naked women in general should trump any bad smell in general, at least in the short term.

    WG

    Great post, btw and I didn’t even see the boob!

  8. Woo, this was funny! Love it 🙂 But your poor boob! Lesson learned…when distracting a man with boobs, always make sure to lure them out of the kitchen first!

  9. Not sure what happened to my first comment, but don’t believe it ever went through. Was trying to accept the coffee-invite and offer cans of baked beans, but alas – guess it wasn’t meant to be!

  10. LOL You are so much better prepared than me. At this rate I am just hoping to make enough friends with stock piles to make it through. I do stock up on energy drinks and diet dew though… so I am good for something! Also, I know a 1000 ways to cook with fake eggs. Okay, 3. Can I come live with you?

  11. Bahahha! This is epic. Im glad to know that I’m not the only one that whips out a boob to cause a diversion. You should’ve seen my mother during Y2K. She got lazy through the stockpiling process, so the bathtub only had 2 gallons of water, 3 rolls of toilet paper and some Starkist Tuna. I’m glad the end wasn’t really night. I watched that Doomsday Preppers and dreamed about Sylvester Stallone all night. I’m not sure why.

  12. Thanks for doing this Leanne, you picked an awesome post!
    The survival thing might have something to do with living out in the country. Sometimes I’ll look out the window into the back yard and imagine a grand underground bunker……we can only dream.

    ……of bunkers AND boobs! 🙂

Go on. Talk to Mama Duck.

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