Death Row.

20 Mar

I don’t spend time worrying about dying or fearing my death to come. It’s not something that grips me with fear or anything like that, but I do have some preferences on how I would not like to kick the bucket, so I’ve made an outline for you. I’m going to put them in reverse order, and save my least “favorite” form of death for last.

Least Preferable Ways To Die:

4) Suffocation. Suffocation is not particularly a favorable way to go, I don’t think. I get high-strung when I’m in a hot car for more than a few minutes when the oxygen level is simply uncomfortable. Suffocating would put me into a full-fledged panic attack before slowly gasping for my last breaths, choking to death. Not a good way to go.

3) Getting hit by a car. Much worse than suffocating would be getting hit by a car. Sometimes when I’m crossing the street, I imagine just for a moment how gruesome it would be to be struck by a moving vehicle. Even a relatively slow-moving vehicle would suck serious ass. If a car going even just 45 miles per hour smashed into a human body, it would absolutely obliterate your legs, smash your pelvis, turn your ribs into cornmeal, and the blow to your head after it slammed your upper body into the hood upon impact would completely destroy your brain. This would be horrible. Even at 20 miles an hour, things aren’t looking good. Please do not hit me with your car.

2) Being stabbed to death.
Being stabbed to death would SUCK. It seems like a slow, painful way to go. Knives plunging into my body one stab at a time would not be a pleasant experience. One by one, each piercing stab punctures another vital organ as you slowly bleed out and cash. Oh that would hurt. Not interested.

1) Death by fire. The number one absolute worst way to die in my opinion would be death by fire. Oh my god. Before the fire actually even touches you, the smoldering heat is cooking you from the inside out and roasting you like a rotisserie chicken. Your lungs are filling with the thick, black, smothering smoke as you gasp for breath. Imagine being swallowed by burning flames, engulfed in scorching fire—your skin blistering and popping and literally sloughing off of your body, melting away. Meanwhile your eyes are boiling out of their sockets and your hair and eyebrows are lighting up like kindling. Your internal organs start actually cooking, and the liquids in your body start hissing as you are incinerated like a log in a fire. Ugggghhh this would be the worst way to die, no doubt about it.

If I had to choose a way to die, next to the obvious “in my sleep” or “by making out with Justin Timberlake for too long,” it would be drowning.

“But Becca, you’re CRAZY!!!!! Drowning would be TERRIBLE!!!!!111”

I don’t think so. Sure, the last few moments before you actually fill your lungs with water and die while you’re panicking would certainly not be pleasant, but when you finally come to peace that you aren’t going to ever take another breath of air again, and you just inhale deeply, your lungs fill with fluid, and it’s over, just like that.

At least that’s what I’ve been told…by…all the people who have drowned.

Moving right along. This is some bitch named Kelsey’s status that I just saw on my home page:

having the locksmith drill a hole into my apartment door= $60.00. not being locked out of my apartment= priceless fml

I really, truly hate people who don’t fully grasp the concept of the “priceless” jokes. The only people I hate more than those people are the people who don’t grasp the concept at all. Kelsey, you are the latter. Not only did this broad F up the “priceless” joke, but she also confused it with “fml.” Just the other day, Cole showed me a girl’s status that read, and I quote directly,

“OoOoKayyy…sOoOo now I’m hungry, FML.”

….

If you have to fuck your own life because you’re in between meals, then maybe you should just spare the rest of us and off yourself.

Well, we’ve driven through 9 states in the past three days: Kansas, Nebraska, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, and finally, Connecticut. I think that calls for hibernation. P.S. We drove through Scranton, Pennsylvania today, home of Dunder Mifflin Paper Company. Haha. That was neat. Uh…the end.

“They say ‘motherfucker’ a lot, but they’re really good guys.”

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