It’s getting close, you guys. By the end of the week, we should know if the Mayans were right. Or more accurately, if the guy who translated the ancient, intricate Mayan language was right. I mean, wouldn’t it be a major career setback if he was totally wrong? What if it was all just some Mayan kid’s doodles in Calendar Prophecy 101 class? The Mayans are extinct, right? So there’s no one around to be like, “LOLZ, that’s not a hieroglyphic of the Mayan god of destruction, that’s my mother-in-law!”
Nevertheless, if the world does end, I can easily think of a few pros to the whole apocalypse gig. (Side note: I can never spell apocalypse correctly on the first go. I should probably write that word more often.)
If the world ends on Friday:
- I will forever be a woman in my twenties;
- I won’t have to potty train the Bean;
- I won’t have to buy another Brita filter;
- I won’t have to buy another $30 box of diapers;
- Or wipes (UGH);
- We won’t have to change our toothbrushes, another light bulb, the air filters, or the batteries in our smoke detectors ever again;
- I won’t have to get an oil change (HAH. Sears can SUCK IT);
- I won’t have to venture back into the black hole/junk closet to pack away our Christmas decorations;
- We won’t have to pay any more bills, including the gas bill that probably peaked this month;
- MORTGAGE. FIN.
Obviously, the cons far outweigh the pros, like DO SHAWN & JULES GET MARRIED (Psych)??, and IS HENRY’S BIRTH FATHER RUMPLE’S SON (Once Upon a Time)?!, and SERIOUSLY, WHEN ARE NICK AND JESS GONNA KISS (New Girl)?!, and a host of other things not television-related.
But then I might get morbid and my mom is probably already having a fit over my tempting superstition/fate/the angry Mayan god of destruction or something.
But seriously, why are diapers so expensive?