This is no joke, people. The Center for Disease Control is taking this shit for reals!
Thus, my friend and I decided fencing classes were the most sensible idea. (Also, it checks off another item on my "33 in 2012" list.) Now, when the zombie apocalypse comes, Danielle and I will be ready.
Go on. Judge me if you want. But when I'm kicking zombie ass with my bad-ass sword skillz, you'll be like "AJ, you're my hero! You should be our new planet ruler!"
And I'll be all "Oh, okay. If you insist."
FYI, my first decrees after I've destroyed the zombies will be shorter work-weeks, puppies for everyone who wants them and more tickets for ass-clowns who drive to slow on the freeway. (I may also insist on cupcakes for breakfast.)
You're welcome.
I should also tell you that my body HURTS. We were all geared up to learn about fencing but really thought our first class would be like "Look, kids! This is a sword. And THIS... is a HELMET. Can you say HELMET?"
We were wrong. There was parrying and thrusting and lunging. And a bit of getting whacked in the ass by Danielle's foil because homegirl takes her swordplay to new levels of agression. (This is why I am glad to be on her team however it did catch me by surprise to feel the poke in my butt.)
The good news is, I expect I'll sleep quite well tonight.
But before I crash, I just wanted you to see what pops up when you google image search "Zombie Apocalypse." Other than some funny photos of President Obama kicking zombie arse, you get a lot of funny pie charts like this one:
Be alert, folks. You never know when they'll come for you.
