Some Small-ish Reasons Why The World Can't End In 2012

  • I’d like to see my cat grow up. Not that he’ll be making anything of himself. I can guarantee that. But there is a slight possibility that he’ll learn stop unfurling toilet paper rolls, thus not forcing me to duck walk with my pants around my ankles to the toilet paper hidden in my medicine cabinet every time I finish peeing. I’d like to stick around for that.
  • There are still at least 20,000 Sketchers ads that don’t have a hilarious penis drawn on them. I cannot rest until that happens.
  • I’m not invested in this at all, but someone has to marry Jennifer Aniston already. Seriously.
  • It would be nice to be able to call loved ones during the apocalypse but given that my carrier is AT&T, that doesn’t seem very likely – unless I plan on living at the Petco around the corner/the only place I get reception. Point is, I’d like get out of my phone plan before then.
  • Speaking of loved ones, before the end of days; my mom has to at least once say “Starbucks” instead of “Blockbuster” when she asks me to pick her up a cappuccino. The woman wasn’t born in this country, so apparently she has a hard time deciphering between a place that sells coffee and a defunct video rental chain.
  • There should be at least four women candidates running for President every election year. And I’m not talking about the blame hurricanes on wizards and crap types. I’m talking real “I went to college and paid attention in science class” ladies.
  • By the end of the world, I want to have enough money to have a party on a large sailboat boat where all my friends are dressed in white and we eat an endless amount of BBQ spare ribs very messily (because of the waves). At the end of the evening we’ll take a group picture and it’ll look like we’re all victims of a fancy murder on CSI.
  • I’d like to learn how that “Stocks” app on my iPhone works. Also, I have no money, so I bet I would get an ironic kick out of it. It would be funnier to me than anything on Twitter.
  • I’ve got a stack of New Yorkers dating back to 2003 that I said I was gonna read “for the short stories”. If the end of the world is dependent on that task alone then good news, guys. We’re going to be around for the next 10 million years.

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