My car is packed with running shoes, blankies, pillows, hoodies, hash browns and a healthy dose of bourbon.
Rapture survival kit?
Nope.
Tonight (Saturday morning if you want to get technical) at 2:00am, when I'm officially (Hopefully) off the clock of my last job for the day, I'm piling myself into my car, Picking up the sis-in-law and we're headed 100 miles north to Bear Lake.
I'm usually making bad decisions and displaying poor judgement on a regular basis, but something about driving to Bear Lake in the dark, BY MYSELF, after a 20 hour work day that usually leaves me fairly delirious just felt wrong.
So after a small amount of groveling and begging, my sisinlaw decided she'd take one for the team and stay behind to wait for me so that I wasn't alone in my death inclined adventure.
Then this morning it was brought to my attention that tomorrow is dubbed Judgement-rapture-zombie-apocalypse day. The timing is impeccable.
I can't wait to be two young helpless girls driving in the dark with zero arsenal, on a supposed Apocalypse day as all the good Christians float up to heaven and leave the rest of us to fend for ourselves against rabies-ridden zombies.
This is just the first of many probable deaths for me this year.
In a mere 28 days I'm going to be running death race. Aka Wasatch back ragnar relay series. First leg: Cake walk.
Second leg: I cry and beg for the sweet release of death.
Third leg: I'm going to meet Jesus. Or hallucinate and chase after a unicorn into a forest of life saver gummies and stiffly mixed drinks.
The odds of survival are bleak people. Fucking bleak.
I think a lot of people can sense my death quickly approaching. A couple of my dad's friends bought me beers two nights ago, my husband finally fixed my brake lights, my mother in law scheduled family photos 12 days prior to the race and the dogs have been extra cuddly.
It's all just a little suspicious.
If by some miracle the universe spares me in June, I'll be cheating death, yet again in July.
The husband and I are trotting off to Alaska for 10 days.
The same 10 days that I'll be on the rag.
There's fucking Bears in Alaska.
REAL LIFE BEARS.
You all might as well send your condolences now.
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You should probably be aware that this blog features an unnecessarily copious amount of profanity, so if you're easily offended by that sort of thing then this would be a good time for you to turn off your computer.
