Practically speaking, between the MS and Hep-C and old-age; it’s a toss-up.
Being run over by a beer truck driven by Orlando Bloom would be bliss. meow
There’s a job for you at the U.S. Department of Homeland Security.
How and when I die will probably be determined by some judge, but if it’s left up to me, I’ll probably be having a Near-Death Experience, and miss.
Probably a massive pulmonary embolism.
- It tells you right there on the calculator.
If my life so far is any indication, I’ll probably die in a freak kitchen accident involving electricity.
My occupational hazards, in order of probability:
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A crash with a bus coming around a blind curve in the wrong lane on a winding mountain road
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Small plane crash into a jungle mountain top
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Taken hostage by Colombian guerillas and shot when no one comes up with the ransom
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Ebola fever
85.4. I need to develop more bad habits.
I actually have three preferred methods of shuffling off this mortal coil.
Being crushed by a falling safe or grand piano
Running off a cliff to a distance of 20 feet or so, the remembering the law of gravity
Chasing a swift animal into a tunnel only to be flattened by a speeding train driven by the aforementioned animal.
Yeah, you’re right. It is now. I swear it was not there when I asked the question.
Anyway, it says I’ll last til 85. Interesting set of questions.
According to the MSN Money LIfe Expectancy Calculator, I’ll make it to 90. If I lose 50 pounds (yeah, right) I get an additional 4 years. If I exercise “moderately,” which they define as walking at least 2 miles 3 times a week, I can get to 97. Guess I’m dying when I’m 85.
I shall die in battle, smiting my enemies with my mighty axe! I shall die side by side with my Nordic bretheren! And I shall live on forever in Valhalla, and be remembered forever in the songs and tales of my people!
I’m hoping for a bolt of lightning. I’ve almost gotten nailed twice so I might get lucky if I leave the window open. Since we’ve all got to go, a way that would get you into the newspaper might be a good choice.
More likely I’ll die of the DT’s or liver failure, however.
Terrified and shaking. Probably whimpering, too, but I’m less sure about that.
Suicide. Not in a real hurry lately, but I am prettty sure that one day I’ll get the better of me. The idea has always been there and always makes sense.
Either that or heart disease, cancer etc. (Death by Fast Food). But really … what’s the difference? One a little more sudden than the other, but both are the simple result of abuse of one’s body.
I figure the heat death of the universe ought to about do it for me.
[SUB]Although, when the time comes, I’ll probably want to do something about THAT, as well.[/SUB]
Well, if family history is any guide, sometime in the next 10 to 20 years, my heart will go out for lunch and forget to come back. The cardiologist hasn’t identified any of the usual culprits, though, so knowing how I am, my epitaph will probably be something along the lines of:
“Duck? What duck?”
Statistically highly unlikely, but with a certain poetic sense: a heavy light fixture with a pronounced metal point or prong at its bottom end will come loose and skewer my head. This actually [nearly] happened to me once, many years ago, and only the glancing angle spared my cranium that time from being speared like a chunk of lamb on a shish-ke-bab stick. (I needed stitches, though.) It would make sense, in a John Irving- or Kurt Vonnegut-like way, for a rogue light fixture to get me eventually.
That first site said I’d live till 2064. How can one know what will happen 60 years from now? More than likely, given my occupational choices and plans for the future, it will involve either a chemical spill at a research lab or a plenum fire in a computer room, although that far into the future we can’t rule out flying car crashes or shuttlecraft explosions either. :eek:
Welp, I’m boned. The BBC Life calculator pegs me at 80 years, which I thought was great, but when I saw everybody posting 85 years +, didn’t feel so great. I believe that’s the lowest yet. So I decided to take the MSNBC one. 55 years. Ouch. At least I’m having fun.
My most likely was to cack off:
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Stroke. Both my dad and grandpa have had them in the last three years (actually within one year of each other. Dad has recovered, despite the fact that it was in his brain stem. Grandpa is recovering as well.)
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Cancer. I smoke. Odds are 50/50. 'Nuff Said
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Heart Problem. I smoke. I love fatty foods. I’m overweight. I hate the gym. I usually walk to and from work everyday (one hour a day ~4 km), but walking is the most exercise I get.
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Something out of left field. Completely random and unavoidable, preferably bizarre accident. Not sure what it will be, but what ever it is, my last words will be “What the hell is tha…”
I’m going to have sex with supermodels until my heart (or some other overly vascular organ) explodes. Damn, I hope it’s my heart.