Astronomical Space Kitten

I am only here to commence background checks. That is all.

Reblogged from withlovetomyairman-deactivated2

Trying to figure out how old this Elgin American Compact is.

Pretttty sweet.

Survival Guide to the ZOMBIE Apocalypse - Chapter Three

Alliances. 

Obviously, the Zombie Apocalypse is something that can not be taken lightly, and one man alone is not capable of survival. You need alliances. An example of the perfect alliance is obvious, Charlie Sheen. Enough said. All you have to do is let him watch Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, convince him he is Johnny Depp, and tell him the zombies are undercover DEA hiding drugs in their underground layer. The only way he can get his drugs back is to raid their evidence room, but to get to the evidence room he has to fight these “agents”. You’ll never have to “get your hands dirty”, so to speak. Acquiring Charlie Sheen will not be an easy task, though. He currently is requesting to be held in a private rehabilitation center. Therefore, you’re going to have to either conjure him, or google LA Rehabilitation Centers, and check them all. I don’t know how you feel, but the simplicity in this one has to be conjuring. So, in order to conjure Charlie Sheen you will need the items as follows:

-Hooker blood.

-Shyla Stylez’s Saliva.

-A lock of Courtney Love’s hair.

-6 ounces of at least 95% pure Columbian Cocaine.

Instead of using candles, you must use K2 inscents. The mixture of AIDS, syphilis, inadequate hygiene, and hard drugs will have Charlie Sheen standing in your living room in T-minus 10 minutes, guaranteed!  

This is exactly what will happen if you choose to follow the instruction directed in any other zombie apocalypse survival guide. I am God, therefore I know what I am talking about. Just sayin’.

This is exactly what will happen if you choose to follow the instruction directed in any other zombie apocalypse survival guide. I am God, therefore I know what I am talking about. Just sayin’.

Moonshine and Alice in Wonderland.

So, I like to drink, A LOT. All these cool people had alerted me about “moonshine” and told me I was missing out on the “beast of the best alcoholic beverages”. Being a compulsive drinker, I was like “NOO, this can’t be!” So I had to try it. So, it seemed like a decent night for a party, what do I do? I call up my cousin and say, “Hey, moonshine, we should do this.” He agrees, and comes to pick me up. We go buy a gallon of this shit, Peach flavored moonshine. The jug looked EXACTLY like I expected it to. It was straight out of “The Beverly Hillbillies”. I was expecting some old bitch to throw a rocking chair on the back of the truck and climb aboard with a shotgun. Anyways, we take the shit and head towards my cousins house. Once we arrive I instantly start drinking this shit. I was surprised to find out it tasted like peach flavored water. I’m tearing this shit up, basically by myself, when I realize, “FUCKK! We didn’t burn it to see if it burned blue!” (safety issue; if it doesn’t burn blue, you’re fucked.) After that thought processed, I was like, “Well, I’ve drank a quarter of this shit, let’s keep goin’!” So, party on. At some point in the night, I realized I had drank over HALF a GALLON of this shit BY MYSELF! I was barely 125 lbs. WHAT WAS I THINKING!? I remember falling down, because I was positive there was a chair under me. There wasn’t. [This is where the story is based off of the memories of others; I have no idea what happened from this point, forth.] I apparently asked my cousin to take me home, I had decided I was tired, and too drunk for this shit. So, we’re heading back to town. For some reason my attention was on the little white rabbit outside of the truck, running away from us. I don’t know if it was the fact he was wearing a jacket, glasses, and holding a stop watch, or if it was because he was cute, but I was really interested. Once we entered town I could see the rabbit more clearly under the street lamps.  All of a sudden, out of no where, BAM! THERE WAS ALICE! I immediately opened the door and rolled out, with intentions of catching her. Apparently the landing wasn’t as bad as it should have been. By the time my cousin stopped, and got back to me I was attempting to run down the street. He threw me back in the truck, for only a short amount of time, because I made him stop so I could puke approximately four times. After that, I assume I took a nap until I got home. Once I arrived my cousin woke me and I opened the door and fell out to the ground. I made it to the stairs and thought to myself, “I can’t climb right now! What will I do?!” So, I sit down, and pulled myself up. Once I got inside I immediately went to my mother’s room and began beating on her door screaming, “Megan did it.” Wait, WHO THE HELL IS MEGAN? This I do not know. After that I crawled to my bedroom, (apparently) and began to puke in my trash can. My sister was following me, enjoying this, I suppose. Over the period of time I’d been home I assume I managed to piss my mother off highly, so when she came in screaming it apparently was no shock to me, seeing as I laughed at her. BAD idea. She picked up a glass vase and hit me with it. I have no idea if it hurt, or knocked me out. I woke up the next morning, body on the bed, head on the ground; wearing one shoe with no sock, one sock with no shoe, and smelling potently of alcohol and vomit. Bruises and gashed from jumping from the vehicle and alcohol poisoning for over a week were the only things I got from that night.

I wonder if my experience would have differed if I would have made sure the moonshine burned blue?

Kitler

Kitler

Survival Guide to the ZOMBIE Apocalypse - Chapter Two

What to do when being chased by Kitler: Kitler, for those whom live in the shadows of the world, is kitty Hitler. Statistics show Kitler could be as much as ten times more dangerous than Hitler. Why? Well what kind of fucking question is why?! FACT: Cats are cute. FACT: Cats are conniving. Well, that may not be a fact, BUT IT’S VERY POSSIBLE. The BEST weapon to have when it comes to defeating Kitler, An Asian. They are your ticket to survival. Kitler is gone, and you’re having Cheng Du Chicken for dinner. Everyone’s happy.

Is that a zombie eating your husbands genetalia, or is your husband being raped by a succubus?: Honestly, in this scenario, you probably don’t want to know the answer anyways. If you’re still married by the time the Zombie Apocalypse reigns over the world, consider yourself lucky; this is the CHEAPEST divorce option. The bitch doesn’t get everything, and you’re not paying child support! That NEVER happens! So, is that a zombie eating your husbands genetalia, or is your husband being raped by a succubus? No, succubuses do not contract the T-Virus, as far as we know. But think about it; Do you really want to go there after a woman that rapes approximately 4 million men in their sleep yearly, has been there? Negative. Move along.

Do “Laws” exist during the Apocalypse?: Yes, you still MUST follow the law. BUT, the law’s have changed! Once cannibalistic corpses begin using human brains as bubblelicious, the only laws you must abide by are as follows:

1) Religion is no longer a choice. Everyone will be converted to Raptor Jesusism. You follow Raptor Jesus, or suffer the VelociRapture.

2) You may never acknowledge that Buckcherry, Justin Bieber, or Whitney Houston existed. Anyone who breaks this law shall die by the teeth of Raptor jesus.

3) IF you happen to run into anyone from the cast of Jersey Shore, or APPEAR to be from the cast of Jersey Shore, DO NOT look them in their eyes! The only way to destroy a self proclaimed “Guido” or “Guidette” is by “Death Bunny”. You MUST Death Bunny anyone who fits this description! : "Death Bunny - To Death Bunny: Is to smother one’s intellect with large, cumbersome slabs of text containing alot of difficult words, long sentences and ultracoherent threads of thought that cause the target’s head to explode violently."

That concludes chapter two. I will begin chapter three whenever I feel like it.