I've always loved Star Wars and X-Men and a bunch of stuff I would consider unlikely to be be liked by a girl that on top of being a girl also looks like a barbie. A look in the mirror tells me to make a Raspberry Margarita, drink it with a pink straw and shout "wohoo!" While I indulge in this kind of behavior occasionally (at least twice in the last five years!) my every day life and the vast majority of my hobbies focus on rather untypical activities for girls. However, my biggest passion aside from politics and sports is what really makes me question whether these boobies are real: I love Zombies!
It goes without saying that I watch the Walking Dead, I anticipated seeing World War Z because I had loved the book and have dreamed about being in the Zombie Apocalypse more than once. A recent quiz on the internet revealed that I am indeed most like Rick Grimes out of all Walking Dead characters. In other words, the internet believes that I would kick butt should such a scenario arise in my lifetime. Unfortunately, this belief in not shared by the people closest to me. My best friend, an Irish lad that at times looked like a zombie himself with his dreadlock-mohawk, refused to save me in the apocalypse because he believes I'm emotionally unstable, a liability to the group and he can't have sex with me. What good would I be?
The truth is that dear old Conor is pretty right. I almost have a heart attack watching 28 Days Later. How badly would I fail if I was surprised by an actual monster that wants to eat me? The mere thought makes me shiver. I doubt I'd be able to do anything but scream, therefore attracting more of these suckers. As long as running would suffice I could make it through the first couple of weeks because I'm reasonably athletic. When it comes to strength though I'd need a beefy Rick Grimes to step in and save my day with an ax because I can't even open pasta sauce without help. The main difference between me and Conor or the guy who will survive however is that I actually do not hope for this to happen. Surviving would not be a cool game for me. I love all that zombie stuff but I don't actually want to see one. And, unlike Conor, I have also not devoted a huge chunk of my time into developing the perfect plan ensuring my survival. I thought about romance, and being on a beach, and buying shoes for my infant son James. Not carnivorous neighbors...
So after the initial shock that my best friend wouldn't save me I have come to the conclusion that I am in fact actually too girly to make it in a real zombie apocalypse. I am just too pathetic, I would completely fall apart. Hell, this life is already too vicious for me sometimes. I'd cry a lot, missing my dead family. I would not consider surviving on four beans and an egg a day an adventure. But most importantly, I am just too damn weak. A zombie with rotten muscles and cavernous bones could probably still beat me in arm wrestling. If they had any brains they would know to go for me first because I'm too ridiculous to escape. I should be a little bit offended that Conor thought my death would be better for the whole group as my emotional and negative attitude will affect everybody who is looking to survive but he's so right. Living in the Zombie Apocalypse sounds shit! I therefore give everyone permission to leave me behind or drag me along until an opportunity presents itself to sacrifice me.