I heard that shortly after Hurricane Sandy left NYC in a lurch, assholes started looting local convenient stores.
Seriously? What? Did you need a Fresca and Cheetos that bad?
And that got me thinking:
If there really was an end of the world scenario where Zombies/Walkers/Biters were roaming around in the dark all Revolution style, then holy shit, all of those stores would be wiped clean before I even got my ass out of bed.
And that sucks. I mean, c’mon. Give me a couple of days to muster up the courage to go outside. In a couple of days, the whole entire Super Walmart would be empty. Which would suck. And I will tell you why.
Feminine hygiene. Men don’t have this problem, and therefore is never brought up. How many tampons are enough in a zombie apocalypse? THERE ARE NEVER ENOUGH. I’m pretty sure Tampax isn’t continuing to make Super absorbent tampons while the power is out and their dead coworkers are trying to eat them.
So, let’s start with my shopping list.
While Rick and Daryl head towards the shotguns and ammo and axes and squirrel ear jewelry, I’d be hurrying my ass to the Health and Beauty section, all Supermarket Sweep style.
First stop: Tampons. Maxi pads. Poise. If it absorbs blood and liquid, then I want it.
Second stop: Monistat. Ladies, you know what I’m talking about. Things are about to get all dirty and sweaty up in here. So down there may need some help.
Third stop: Chapsticks. My lips are dry okay?? From all the screaming and crying I’m doing from zombies fucking walking around and shit.
Fourth Stop: Elastics for my hair. Unlike all the other chicks in the movies and tv shows who wear their flowing locks down past their shoulders, and don’t even care – I will need to pull this Bozo hair back. I don’t want it in my face, and without product (and oh yeah, water) I won’t be doing anything sexy with this hair do. So surprisingly – no hair products. Ok maybe a brush and a pair of scissors. Oh just cut it all off already. Sinead here I come!
Fifth stop: Advil. Tylenol. Cold medicine. Fuck it, just clear out the whole aisle. I’ll even grab some condoms. Woohoo! And some batteries. Shut up, don’t go through my backpack!
And that’s it. I’m not asking for much more. Oh, but what about those men that want to repopulate the earth. Fuck you. You guys go in there and get diapers. Like a thousand, million of them. Because I’m pretty sure the cloth diaper van isn’t pulling up to pick up Juniors dirty diapers and bring me back freshly cleaned ones. So there’s that. Diapers. And then you’ll need some Butt Paste. And then you’ll need some baby food. All types. Newborn. Toddler. Puree. Green beans. Cheerios. Oh fuck it. I’m so not having kids in the Zombie Apocalypse. I don’t even want them now. Why would I want them when I’m all dirty, running from zombies, with a yeast infection and oh shit I forgot to pick up saline solution and my contact is bothering me and oh shit my glasses broke. FML.
Actually thinking of a tampon-less zombie apocalypse makes me feel better about a Romney/Ryan election.
If I get pregnant, I’ll just get an abortion. Oh wait…no.
Ok, I’ll have the baby and let a gay couple adopt it…oh wait. Nope. Mittens won’t like that.
So I will raise my child but go on welfare and food stamps to support us…oh nope.
Maybe I will take my chances with the Zombies.
I’m guessing I’ll be hearing a lot of this:
“Hey, JMo…your crotch is all bloody. That’s kinda gross.”
“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure if you noticed but there are no fucking tampons and I have my period. Every 28 days! Get used to my bloody Jordache jeans!! But good thing you grabbed those playing cards, fucknuts!!!!!”
Hey guess who wrote the first chapter of her book tonight, AND wrote a blog post? I rock.