Books are for pussies and survivalists

Late December I read an article on how bad drinking alcohol was for me. So I made a new year's resolution: No more reading.

4 months later, I broke my resolution. A couple of friends convinced me to read a book called "World War Z." Now, please don't get me wrong, the last thing I want to do is sit around and waste my time reading a book. I learn more watching TV and i can comfortably refill my drink at the same time. Books do not get me laid, nor do they for anybody else. Unless, of course, you kidnap the kid who is sitting all by himself at a play ground reading a book just to drag his ass down to the public library to convince the fucking sexy librarian you are a great uncle and she should sleep with you. Even then, thats stretching it and you still don't have to read. Well, back to my story: I ended up reading a book about a zombie apocalypse. Fucking awesome.

The only problem is that now I have spent $1500 on a new M4 carbine (fuck 3 day waiting periods), purchased 1000's of rounds for it, a $50 machete (they don't run out of ammo), a crow bar, and a sledge hammer. When Vietnam vets walk into a room, they immediately look for exits. I now look for entrances so I can barricade them. I spent 2 hours in a meeting today with my company's management in a posh conference room. I forgot what the fuck they were talking about because I was contemplating how I could separate the CEO's head from his body using one of the doors from cabinet, if he were a zombie it would even be justified.

Now that I am home and writing this, I have realized that I need help. I need some serious help and I am sure you have realized it: How am I going to destroy the stairs leading to the top floor of my house alone.