The past few weeks I have really grown to love and appreciate zombie movies. For real, they get me every single time, plot or no plot. Hot girl or no hot girl. All there has to be is a very persistent species that eats people and/or is undead/infected and goes after unsuspecting regulars such as ourselves. If zombies came to rule the earth, I’d know exactly what to do, thanks to Josh Hartnett, Will Smith and a bunch of other fearless zombie killers.
In this spirit of zombies is Christmas. I bet zombies love Christmas. Severed legs gift wrapped neatly, roadkill dog packaged up with care. Christmas zombie socks are a staple as well. If I were a zombie, I’d be a wiseman zombie.
It’s been a good weekend of hanging out, soccer games, boot hockey, planning for the best all time trip of all time and eating lots. (I didn’t make the 200 pound thing. After a night of eating a half of a ham and a hot pepper and some milk, with the milk coming back out after a few short minutes in my stomach, I decided to throw in the towel. The milk was still cold when it came back out, think about that.)
The Christmas season gets me all sentimental and fruity. People are home, love is shared, zombies are too cold to leave their zombie houses; it is a good time of year. One of the best.
Man, I’d love to be a zombie.