To kill or not to kill—what if the one you love became a zombie?

24 Oct 2012

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The Walking Dead really gets me thinking. Last season, Rick had to kill the best friend he’d been through thick and thin with in order to survive. While his BFF was not yet a zombie, he was well on his way. This made me start to fantasize, and obviously not in a good way, about what I would do if my boyfriend became a zombie.

If I become a zombie in a post-apocalyptic world, I definitely want to be off-ed. Transforming into a mindless shell wandering the streets aimlessly, lusting after brains and uttering unintelligible gibberish is just a little too primal for me.

No matter how much you’ll miss someone, do you really want them to suffer that existence? That said, it’s probably gut-wrenching to be forced to kill your soulmate. You have to completely detach from this lackluster, undead version of your former flame—and fully accept that this undead creature is no longer that hottie with the six-pack abs. Once you fully comprehend this, it’s time to make a plan and execute it, no pun intended.

The solution is pretty straightforward. You must create the quickest, most efficient way to eradicate said zombie—there is definitely no room for mistakes here. The last thing you want to do is prolong your loved ones’ suffering. The most efficient method seems to be a gunshot through the head. Quick, simple, effective—the perfect combination. If you don’t have a gun handy, try chopping his head off with a machete. If you live in a weapons-free household, then an ice pick through the brain is a no-brainer.

If I wake up one day to a dirty zombie drooling all over my 1200 thread count sheets, of course, I’ll be devastated. Yet I’ll cast all anxiety aside and do what I need to do. I want to keep my brains intact, so it would be a simple matter of survival.

Let it be known—if there is a zombie apocalypse and I become a brainless gut-muncher, you have my permission to kill me.

Photo source: zombiephiles.com

By: admin Category: Zombie Apocalypse Tags: , , ,

5150 and proud of it

12 Oct 2012

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I admit it, I’m crazy. But here’s the thing—I like it. I won’t be doing anything to change it.

I’m not talking the full 72-hour-hold type of crazy, the I’m-going-to-slash-my-wrists-the-right-way-in-someone-else’s-bathtub kind of psychosis. I’m talking the little bit wild, free-spirited, different thinking, kinda awesome type of crazy. The kind that fuels incredible, gut wrenching works of art, inspires amazing novels and films, and gives you the fearlessness you need to leap over anxiety-inducing obstacles. The incendiary kind of crazy that reminds you that you’re alive.

This delicious but volatile state can drive a relationship to the fiercest places imaginable—that tumultuous rollercoaster ride they call crazy love. We’ve all taken that journey at one time, evolving into that lunatic of a girl that an angry or overwhelmed boyfriend deems crazy. Boiling bunnies and ferrets aside, yes, women may be a little bit crazier than men. Is that really such a bad thing?

Ultimately, we’re often classified as loca simply because we’re different from the opposite sex—we are so completely disparate in the way we act, think and love. We often wear our emotions on our sleeve and may sometimes act on them irrationally. Yet how boring would our world be if we all just upped our testosterone and jumped into the boxing ring when we were feeling emotional?

It’s easy to understand why a crazy episode can scare a man back into the cave that he came from. How can they comprehend a flood of emotions that grips your entire being? The kind that makes you disappear into a blur of white flashes and adrenaline rushes, sticky sweet one moment and pure scalding fire the next. That wave of lunacy that pulls you out into a deep, invisible ocean where you ride wave after crashing wave, until you suddenly wake up and no longer recognize yourself.

If you haven’t experienced your crazy side, you’re truly missing out—or you’re in denial. If I didn’t embrace mine, how else would I give birth to the twisted screenplays that pay my bills, write deviant reflections on life and devise innovative ways to publicize the other writers and clients I represent? How would I creatively solve business problems that require more abstract, out-of-the-box thinking? Where would I escape from the tragedies and danger that life confronts me with? How would I be able to fend off the zombies that attack me in an apocalyptic quest to consume my scrumptious brains?

Life is just too short to bottle it all in. I’m not saying bust out the machete and let loose on the neighborhood—just that it’s not so bad to indulge your inner lunatic every once in awhile. Who cares what anyone else thinks? The opinion of some random truly has no effect on your life—only you can give them that power. What’s most important is what you think and what the ones you love think. And if they love you too, I guarantee they will accept you for all your craziness. They might even like it.

The next time someone calls you crazy, psycho or loca, smile sweetly and thank them. Then go ahead and flash them that deranged glint in your eye.

By: admin Category: Loca rants