Sure, pregnancy is like the miracle of life or some nonsense (until the machines perfect their way of making more humans…) But unlike being pregnant, I kind of want an apocalypse. I wouldn’t have to go to work. I’m chubby so I don’t expect to be anybody’s sex slave. I could rough it if I had to – if I HAD to. I wouldn’t hate having to spend some quality time locked in a mall playing dress up and sniping zombies from the roof.
All these things sound perfectly acceptable to me—possibly awesome.
However, in a post-apocalyptic world my first stop would be CVS. Well, first a bookstore or library where I’d get a book about drugs, because fokklsncindine doesn’t mean shit to me. (Maybe I should just learn that mess in the present, just in case.) Then I head to the drug store to grab the basics like antibiotics and penicillin and THE PILL. Continue reading “Pregnancy is Worse Than The Apocalypse”