Cute guys and the end of the world

So I was at the library, minding my own business, when an impossibly cute library worker comes by to reshelve. Anyway, I tried not to stare, because he doesn’t need to be sexually harassed in the workplace, okay?

Later on I went to use the computer, but as I was leaving, I passed the same fine piece of ass human being with thoughts and feelings in the stairwell. And I looked up toward heaven like Al Bundy and said, “Why me??”

And that’s when I had a paradigm shift.

Because as we all know, the world is going to end soon. It doesn’t matter if it’s December 21, 2012 or whenever we run out of oil, global warming passes its tipping point, or someone decides to nuke someone else. The point is, anything I am trying to do now — from scoring with cute boys to entering a hot residency program — will become utterly insignificant in comparison.

I’ll be 28, just started working for real at some hospital (or medical group). Perhaps I wake up and decide to start dating. Or I’ll still be mad at the world for impossibly cute guys. Then I’ll be walking to my car and a giant block of ice will fall in Antarctica and the Pacific Ocean will come rushing up and engulf everybody.

And that’s the end of the show.