I've decided to start taking the stairs more often. Mostly because my body has gotten all paranoid and survivalist and decided to turn itself into a self-contained flotation device, complete with inflatable wings and big old inflatable swimming ring. In other words, I am losing the battle of the bulge and that has nothing to do with WWII. But to get back on track...
So I started taking the stairs and yesterday I took the stairs at work. Just to give a little backstory, I work in a hospital in the basement. And not just your standard basement...I work in the third basement, there are two levels of basement above me. I LITERALLY work in the bowels of hell. Anyway, I take the stairs down to the third level of beezlebub's lair and I noticed something I'd never noticed before. There were a bunch of signs pointing out that my little slice of pergatory is also the nuclear fallout shelter.
YEAH! What that means is that when the end comes, the good news is that I have a pretty good chance of surviving. The bad news is, it'll be up to me and my coworkers to repopulate the planet. And all things considered, this means the make-up of the next generation of mankind will be composed of the following: A. short, B. pudgy, C. balding, D. neurotic, E. anal retentive, F. snarky, and G. REALLY into bad reality television. (Of the above, I consider myself b,d,e, & f).
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