I live in Utah County. When the End of the World hits, this place will be fine.
Even I probably will be. First off, because I am surrounded by hardcore survivalists. Secondly, because I can barter my diet coke for bread and guns.
I’m kidding about the guns! I won’t need your guns! Because I got my own. Or rather, Mr. Floozy does.
Me: So uh, we have some guns, right?
Mr. Floozy: Yes.
Me: Please tell me that they are under lock and key.
Mr. Floozy: Duh.
Me: And please tell me that you didn’t buy them from the local “GET SOME” GUNS & AMMO store.
Mr. Floozy: No.
Me: It’s not that the contents of the store bother me so much as the superfluous quotation marks.
Mr. Floozy: “.”
So apparently we are prepared for Doomsday cuz we got guns and we’ll shoot you in the throat if you try and take our vodka or Mr. Floozy’s virtue!
Even my son has a BB gun. Not that he has ever shot anything with it (including his eye!), but still. I bet that he could take out a zombie’s weak wrist or a hostile empty Pepsi can. And what about me, you ask? I HAVE A GUN TOO. I’m planning on taking my gun, drawing a line of hot glue across my driveway and watch as the zombies/terrorists/rapists get stuck and shot (slowly, soooo slowly) to death by my son’s BB gun. Uh, and my girls can help out by shouting out womanly words of encouragement, like, ‘Watch out! Zombie third from the left just walked right out of the glue trap! His legs are still stuck, but you’re going to need to reglue his torso, Mom.’ (And why do I picture this legless zombie wearing a long-sleeved button-down manly flannel shirt? I do not know!)
Let’s see. I’m sure that there is something else that we will need to prepare us for the Apocalypse. Think. Think. Think.
Oh, that’s right! FOOOOOD.
We have that. In the basement. A year’s supply of dried yuck. I don’t want to talk about it.
But nobody in Utah County is as prepared as Kellene Bishop.
I’ve been watching this show, Doomsday Preppers on the National Geographic channel and I am hooked. That Kellene Bishop lady? that they showcased on ‘Preppers’? is beyond prepared for the Collapse of Society as We Know It. And she’s from Orem, Utah! Which isn’t super close to my city, but still close enough that I could backpack my way to her house and pound on her door to let me in! like a sad sad metaphorical grasshopper.
This woman can outcook you, outgun you, and outpray you. Her website is a wealth of knowledge on doomsday preparedness. I want her to be my friend, just please don’t let her know that I voted for Obama.
So I figure I have everything set here to ‘bug in’ during the End o’ Times. I have my glue gun, my inedible food supply, and my diet coke cache to barter for your very last chicken that you have named The Last Hope of Humanity.
I feel pretty good. Do you?
WHERE did you find a photo of a chicken in a sweater? It reminds me of when a charitable knitting organization popped up to help penguins after an oil spill, but there is no oil spill near The Last Hope of Humanity.
They are rescue hens! Here is a link: http://littlehenrescue.co.uk/Hensandtheirjumpers.aspx
Oh, and because they’re British hens, they don’t wear sweaters. They wear ‘jumpers.’
YOU NEED TO MAKE ME AN ALLIGATOR SCARF!
AAAAAH THOSE ARE SO COOL.
But seriously, chickens in sweaters. Or jumpers, whatever. HIGH-larious.
I find myself horrified and curious about this ‘dried yuck’ in the basement.
Don’t tell anyone, Internet, but I moved to the wilds of NY state as a sort of ‘just in case’ scenario. I figured living in a super rural area with lots of guns was better than living in the middle of Las Vegas when the ‘crazy years’ start. 😉
I have enough yarn to last at least six months, does that count? Also, granny’s canning room is still full in OUR basement as long as you don’t mind eating black peaches.
Six months’s worth of yarn! Brilliant use of Doomsday! That’s an excellent justification for me to pump up my stash to overflowing.
Also, Sarah, I just threw up a little in my mouth at the idea of black peaches. Thx for that.