Tomorrow night, 18:00 EST (and you have to love not only that the bible can predict the rapture’s exact date, but it is time-zone specific as well, centered on a time zone that at the time of bible writing, no one in Europe or the Middle East even knew fucking existed!), I am on my way to Heaven for the rest of eternity. All of you Jews, Native Americans, Atheists, Hippies, Catholics, Gays, Cats, Dogs, Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, non-evangelical do-gooders, Democrats, Progressives, Mexicans, Blacks, Puerto Ricans, and especially you goddamned Muslims, can collectively kiss my hairy fucking beanbag. I’m off to Heaven like a fat girl to Shoney’s. And tonight we doin’ it, and we doin’ it big! We are going to nail so much evangelical box shut that we’re gonna have to join the gravedigger’s guild. I’m talking crazy Jonas Brother’s ass. I’m a bit new to this party game, given I’ve spent most of my life in either my parent’s basement or at the Moody Bible Church, but I’ve got every detail taken care of. I’ve got every horse carriage in Chicago rented out for transportation. We’re starting out with reso’s at Pizzeria Mutherfucking Uno! Sorry, but Cheesecake factory was too full. Apparently a tour bus full of senior citizens from Iowa have 80% of the joint taken already. Fuck ‘em, we’ve got 2 pitchers of Bud Light draft beer for each table of 12 people, two extra large meat lover’s, and bottomless glasses of Pepsi. After we’re done closing Pizzeria Uno down (actually we can’t close it down, the North Chicago Youth Soccer League champions have reserved after us, so we need to be cleared out by 7:30), we’re off to Joe’s on Weed Street. I’ve heard this is where hardcore Chicagoans go when they want to get down. I’ve got an entire corner blocked off with balloons, crosses, Jesus Christ blow up dolls, boat loads of party hats, about a thousand cupcakes, and of course novelty bibles. And don’t worry, we also have an all-you-can-drink Bud Light deal as well. Unless of course you are a sinful alcoholic and can drink more than 2 Bud Lights, because that is the limit per person. I’m sure as our party gains steam, other people in the bar will be begging to jump over the construction paper streamers which Shelly so Christfully made to block off our corner. So long as they have their own 2-per-person Bud Light deal in place as well, it is alllllll goooood. And just in case they’ve got this thing pegged one day late, everyone better wear purple Nikes and a track suit, just to be safe. You’re all on your own for the after-party. I need to get home and log into my World of Warcraft game. I have not been able to determine if post-Rapture Heaven will have internet access, and if they do, if it will be dial-up or high speed.
Bad boys, bad boys…what’cha gonna do? What’cha gonna do when the Rapture comes for you?
P.S. SPEC is going to be there, with fucking bells on.