so you want to build a zombie apocalypse skate rink

If you have paid attention to the myriad of words that spill out of my mouth on any given day, (you won’t offend me if you haven’t. I use a lot of words…a lot of the time. I am pretty confident in the fact that my husband hears a series of clicks and mumbles when I speak. I imagine that I sound a lot like what Charlie Brown’s teacher would have sounded like if she were a teacher for the Peace Corps and Charlie was part of some African Tribe.  Actually, now that I think of it, I imagine that that LMD (my husband) hears me in clicks and cackles. I imagine that sound to mimic Charlie Brown’s Peace Corp’ing teacher in Africa...if his teacher happened to be Sally Struthers.) you would know that I have expressed my need, want, and dream of a zombie proof home.  In my head, it is a skating rink with beer fountains, black lights, and now a bowling alley so that I can hone my skills. This magnificent facility will be protected by a moat and concrete walls complete with a cat walk on top so that we (you’re invited…provided you aren’t a sucktacular douchetard.) can taunt the zombies like the French prick in “Monty python and The Holy Grail”.  I have always wanted to taunt things from up high and fart in someone’s general direction…not just crop dusting for fun in Walmart. I want it to have purpose and to hold meaning. The larger share of the taunting would come in the form of water balloon tossing for points.

                            Here is an example of taunting at it’s finest:

(Now, you see why the water balloons will be used in the taunting.
We will need the cows for milk for our cocoa puffs.
We also do not want to attract so many zombies that we run out of water balloons.)


This plan/dream, in my head, is set. This is how it will be going down. (THIS IS HOW IT WILL BE GOING DOWN.)  It will be funded solely by my Powerball and or Mega Millions winnings (this parallels my retirement planning). This idea/plan/dream bothers some of the people in my life. Apparently, a zombie proof skating rink/ bowling alley/ Beer-porium is frivolous. You see, these people, they also have plans for the zombie apocalypse. They would have me stealing sailboats and circumnavigating the vast Atlantic Ocean to a small island off of the coast of Italy. I would have no problem with this plan…except that this plan requires me to:

1.   Learn how to sail a boat from the interwebs and the tubes of you.
2.   It involves me helping to re-populate the world with non-zombie babies
3.   My skating rink, bowling alley, Beer-porium will NOT fit on a sail boat. 

YOU SEE:

1. The interwebs are used to ignore the shit that I do NOT want to do. I do NOT want to use it to  work.  The tubes of you are used to learn awesome rock songs on my guitar (betty white), and listen to super kick ass 80's music,  and to ignore the shit that I do NOT want to do. I do NOT want to use it to work.
2. My uterus is CLOSED FOR BUSINESS. It will not be involved in any world re-population plan/scheme. If it were left up to me and my uterus, the human race would go extinct in the event of the zombie apocalypse. Furthermore, I am only interested in using  my vagina for fun and to ignore the shit that I do NOT want to do. I do NOT want to use it (or my uterus) in a way that would create work.
3. Any zombie surviving will not take place outside the comfortable confines of a skating rink/bowling alley/beer-porium. Like i said...it don't fit on the boat...no skates/no me.
   
   
                          My Zombie Apocalypse Survival guide would consist of this:

1. Win the Powerball and/or Mega Millions (preferably both)
2. Have someone else build skating rink/bowling alley/Beer-porium
3. Buy awesome skates with wheels that light up
4. Buy awesome bowling shoes
5. Buy super awesome bowling balls
6. Buy beer
7. Buy nachos and frozen pizza
8. Buy more beer

Did you see the word “WORK” anywhere in that list?
nope.
I envision the zombie apocalypse, for me, as an early retirement.
This early retirement will be kick ass because I am still young enough to jam on some sweet ass roller skates and pound some motherfucking beers.




The following is an open letter to my dream-crushers:

Dear Dream Crushers:

I am only interested in a survivalist plan that affords me unlimited time to skate and bowl and drink beer from my beer fountain in the Beer-porium.

All of my love,
Jes