If #Stormaggedon is any indication, the Apocalypse is clearly upon us, at least here in Toronto. Truth be told, there have already been tons of signs that the end is near. First off, Rob Ford is still our mayor. What’s up with that? Number two: Bang Bang Karaoke Bar on College Street is closing down this week, and I have no other establishment willing to let me ragingly perform five Eminem songs in a row. Clearly my life is over anyway.
I’m kind of okay with the Apocalypse. At least it would be the coolest way to die. I once heard a stand-up comic say that, if there is an after-life, we’re gonna want to die in the Apocaylpse because every other way of dying would be sub-par compared to burning alive in the final days of earth. If we’re going to have to hang out for all eternity, we may as well have bragging rights, right? That’s always brought me a sense of comfort when contemplating the Armageddon. That said, my only fear regarding the Apocalypse is that the last few hours of my life won’t get to be one massive party. That’s why I’ve come up with a plan of attack to throw the perfect Apocalyptic Last Supper Party on a whim. Here’s how to toast the end of the world in style…
Gather everyone you actually like but no one else
Dudes, this is not the time to be creating an open Facebook event. The last thing (literally! Oh gawd, apologies for that. It was irresistible!) you want is to be spending the final hours of your life talking to the guy down the hall who you secretly refer to as “Snaggletooth” about what you think your life has meant. Eff that. The Apocalypse is for best friends only, so call ’em all and round ’em up. Hey, if the Apocalypse doesn’t happen, at least all your acquaintances will finally know where they stand when they see the “The A-Crock-alypse Dinner Party” album on Facebook the next day.
ADVERTISEMENT |
Give everyone a specific pickup order
Your friends are on their way, but there’s no time to make them stop by Loblaws to squeeze tomatoes in search of the freshest ingredients for a bocconcini salad. You’re about to die! Give each of your friends instructions to spend a minimum of $20 at the closest gas station or corner store on whatever junk food truly represents their childhood. This will be a fun way to get everyone reminiscing about the old times and the things that matter in life without focusing on petty things like the fact that your skin is melting off.
Order a ton of food in gluttonous waves of awesomeness
I’m not going to lie. I thought it was the Apocalypse the other night, so I spent a little more than I intended to ordering food for myself and three of my closest friends. (Apologies if you weren’t invited. I guess you know where we stand now as friends). Just-Eat.ca is my favourite delivery service for potential Apocalypses because you don’t have to deal with the time-consuming complications of looking up phone numbers or talking to strangers or even counting out the right amount of change because you can do everything online. First, we ordered a party tray from I Love Sushi because you never know if the Armageddon is going to be all about fire and the four horsemen or a ridiculous downpour and the second coming of a divinely-appointed arc captain. Sushi works whether it’s insanely hot or crazy cold outside. We also ordered pizzas and salads from Magic Oven before the sushi even arrived to keep the food train rolling while the earth spun into what we believed was the end of time. But it wasn’t. And now I have $103 less in the bank but a ton of great new memories to relive during the next Apocalypse.
Make a killer soundtrack
Now is not the time for sad songs. There’s no relationship that didn’t work out to mourn and no revenge song worth playing to voodoo your worst enemy to. After all, we’re all about to die, anyway. Do the final rain dance with your best friends to songs like “It’s the End of the World As We Know It,” “Beds Are Burning,” and “Armagideon Time.” I’d write you a full soundtrack, friends, but I’d rather see you on the flip-side where we’ll find out who threw the better Apocalypse last supper party.
