Survival of the Fit

I was not the only one slipping into survivalist mode today. It was nearly impossible to find a parking spot at any of the local grocery stores, with folks scurrying through the aisles stocking up on provisions in preparation for the mother of all storms.

Now, intellectually I know that this little meteorological disturbance will not be anything close to the apocalypse everyone is expecting. Sure, it looks a little bit freaky when they show the pictures from space, with the entire North American land mass being suffocated by a pretty ominous looking cloud. But the media has already succeeded in convincing me that the Mayans knew more than modern day weather men, and the real apocalypse isn't due for almost two years. Those guys knew their shit -- especially their astrology -- and my money's on December 21st, 1012. The Mayans are probably giggling in their graves about all the hullabaloo over this little tempest in a teapot.

Nevertheless, I found myself fighting the crowds at the local Jewel, worried primarily that I would run out of dog food for my beloved Manny and Leo. But while I was there, I figured I'd try to stock up on essentials for me and my daughter so we wouldn't end up eating potato chips, almond M&M's, and double stuff oreos for three weeks. The novelty might wear off.

Frankly, even if tomorrow's storm is as apocalyptic as predicted, it might be too late. We might just self-destruct long before the first flakes start to fall. Deep dark suburbanites are serious not only about survival, but about survival of the fittest, and to be the fittest, one must avoid carbs, fat, sugar, and anything else that tastes good. A few cat fights almost broke out by the low-fat cottage cheese, and I really thought World War III might break out over the last case of caffeine free diet coke. I felt an anxiety attack coming on, and I bet there's nothing worse than panicking during an apocalypse, so I gave up on being fit and simply headed over to the wine aisle to pick up a few bottles of red to help keep me sane.

After all that hassle, my household will have to survive on potato chips, almond M&M's, double stuff oreos, red wine, and lots of dog food. We'll be fat and happy; heck, we'll be downright giddy. This will be a good practice run for the real deal.