No one is as funny as I think I am. Not even me. Really.
I got my last round of Hep B vaccination today and I’m pretty convinced I’m immune to zombyism now. Tom’s not so convinced but he was relieved when I told him that even though he doesn’t share my immunity (this sort of immunity isn’t sexually transmitted, bummer, huh?) I won’t shoot him in the head should he become a zombie.
No, instead, I assured him that if he were bitten and became a zombie, I’d lock him in a cage in the basement and feed him live kittens. Where I’ll get these kittens is an issue for another day, one to consider should the zombie apocalypse actually occur.
I don’t think I amuse him nearly as much as I amuse myself.
A mom, a dad and two daughters. We're living ordinary lives with a twist of 5p- (Cri du Chat) for spice. But we're about so much more than our younger daughter's genetic diagnosis.
1 comment:
I seriously had an entire night long conversation with myself about zombies once. I couldn't decided if it would be worse if I became the zombie first and went after Riley or if I had to watch Riley become a zombie. I like the cage in the basement idea. I'd just lock her in there and feed her kitties. I couldn't past how scary the two minutes would be if I zombied first and went after her.
And now I'm going to give myself nightmares.
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