May 19th, 2011
The End is Near! An Apocalyptic Agenda
Well, it’s the end of the world as we know it, and we feel fine. (Didn’t see that one coming, did you?) We’ve heard that the earth dips off sharply into oblivion outside of the loop, so we guess that makes Houston our world. As the rapture approacheth for the umpteenth time in history, we’ve decided to stock up on canned goods, light a few candles and examine our place on the planet. Here’s what we’d do with our end of days:
6:25 a.m.: Have to catch the sunrise at Discovery Green. Between sleeping it off and running late for the grind, we’ve kind of forgotten what one of these looks like. Besides, with all the freaky shit going down, this sunrise could gobble up planets ala Hungry Hungry Hippos, and who’d want to miss that?!
8:30 a.m.: Beginning the end with chicken and waffles just feels right for some reason, so breakfast at The Breakfast Klub it is. Usually we’re just so ravenous that the thought of standing in the infamous line that stretches down Alabama makes us seek other sustenance, but it’s now or never.
11:00 a.m.: Watching 2012 for survival tips while pondering why a loving God would allow John Cusack to denigrate himself in such a manner.
12:30 p.m.: We’ll be drinking our lunches at the St. Arnold brewery. There are a lot of promising up-and-comers, but St. A is still the Houston heavy hitter. Assuming HPD will be tied up at this point, we won’t be removing the snorkel gear, and we’ll be damned if we’re removed from the Elissa vat until we’ve had our fill.
1:00 p.m.: One hour of vigorous rioting/looting.
2:00 p.m.: Nap.
4:00 p.m.: This has to be the year that Annise Parker doesn’t alert security and finally accepts our Nekkid Twister Challenge. We’ll be at her doorstep yet again in the usual uniform (black socks, Livestrong bracelet, KY). Someone may switch teams when it’s all said and done…but she tends to stick to her guns.
7:00 p.m.: At this point, the streets will be rampant with debauchery and millions of Mattress Mac minions, finally enacting their diabolical plan for global domination under the guise of affordable Sealy Posturepedics and same-day delivery. Also, money will mean nada, so we’ll be trading cigarettes and toothpaste for a 48 oz. porterhouse and a bottle of the baddest Nebbiolo at Da Marco.
10:00 p.m.: Checking in at Numbers. Why? If for no other reason, the place looks like a bomb shelter and still exists despite a clientele that resembles the casting call for Beyond Thunderdome.
11:59 p.m.: Huddling in bathroom rehearsing Gregorian chants while Australia laughs at us. They’ll already know what went down (or what didn’t) at that point, right?
The end of the world is a foregone conclusion- less a matter of if…and more a matter of when (insert diabolical laughing). But hey, even if fate smiles on the third rock from the sun this go-round, at least we can say that we had a plan. Leave a comment and let us know what would make your apocalyptic agenda!