If you had 24 hours to live , what would you do?
Just be with my family, call some people, go to church. Try to have a regular day.
Spend the day reading Wodehouse and drinking a really good porter.
Eat at the the best BBQ place in the area, have a good beer, play with my dog, and have one last roll in the hay with cwPartner.
At this point, probably try to take out a certain presidential candidate. If you’d have asked me in April, my answer would have been different.
Rent a car and start driving. Stop only to refuel self and car. Pull over when my sight starts failing.
By this time, I’ll be on a mountain and have a really good sunset.
Oh yes, I’m a responsible grown-up, so I would snail-mail letters to concerned individuals.
I carry plenty of ID, and the car can be traced to the rental operation.
Or, load the thing with lots of cans of gasoline, take lethal dose of drugs and go out with a bang.
I am conflicted…
Not go to work. Stay home with my wife and kids.
Eat something nice.
Sign a couple a legal documents just to make the transition easier.
Call a priest.
Kiss my wife.
Die in peace.
Or both at once, and recreate Firefall?
hookers n blow
Lots of love. Everything else would be secondary.
Vibrate around the room in abject terror. ETA: Oh - go buy a few packs of cigarettes and probably smoke them all. (I’m seven years quit).
what Ají de Gallina said, with the addition of run out to the shooting range and send a few rounds down range.
I don’t use illegal drugs, so for me, hookers and chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.
Get drunk as shit at a Irish themed pub, and pass the fuck out.
just stay with my husband and do whatever we both want to do. It’s not just about my last 24 with him, but also about his last 24 with me.
And be extra nice to the kittehs.
Two chicks at the same time.
That’s a punchline to a different joke.
No, really I’d probably watch one of my favourite movies, eat one of my favourite meals, and if possible be at one of my favourite locations.
How do any of us know this isn’t the case?
Drink irresponsibly. Put a mess of meat in the smoker. Crank the stereo up to 11, maybe ZZ Top to start. Buy a ton of fireworks and set them off all at once. Ride a motorcycle again. Fuck outdoors. Go to a Red Sox game in Fenway. Punch Trump in the dick. At the 23rd hour, OD on heroin and cheat whatever death had in mind.
Write it all down so I could have something published before I die, goddammit!
I don’t either, but I’d start since I’d have no fear of ODing.