Goodbye World!

It’s the end of the world as we know it.

And I feel fine.

Well it’s not quite the end of the world.

I don’t think.

Unless you believe Harold Camping.

He’s the 89-year old civil engineer who predicted that May 21, 2011 is "the day of judgment.”

First of all, who is Harold Camping?

And second of all, who is his publicist.

I’ve been writing this here blog.

Brilliantly I might add.

For the last 17 months and I don’t have a book deal.

I don’t have a movie deal.

I don’t even have a job.

This guy predicts the end of the world and everybody is talking about it.

He claims to have figured out the news from “numerological calculations” revealed by reading the Bible.

Well Harold, since you are so good with numbers.

Could you please help my eighth grade daughter with her math homework.

I can’t figure that stuff out.

Camping says there is going to be "a huge earthquake that’s going to make the big earthquake in Japan seem like a Sunday school picnic.”

Huh?

Harry -- you’re gonna have to work with me here.

You see I’m from the Jewish side of the tracks.

And I don’t get the joke.

“Sunday school picnic?”

Do earthquakes not happen on Sunday?

At picnics?

Don’t get it.

Sorry.

But I may be one of the only ones.

This big news is not only being covered by the David Lettermans of the world.

But cbsnews.com even had a 360 word story on it.

But in that story they may have uncovered a little hole in Camping’s tent.

The last line of the article read like this:

The end of the world has been predicted more than 100 times in the last 100 years. In fact, Harold Camping predicted the end once before - in 1994. This time he says he's certain.

Oh, THIS time he’s certain.

Hey, THIS time he could be right.

The line at the local self-serve yogurt store was extra long this afternoon.

Maybe,  just maybe, we were all treating it like it was our final meal on death row.

Or....

Maybe we all just like frozen yogurt.

But either way, when I got there, the line was 25 in front of me.

And when I got to the front, it was 25 behind me.

They were charging 30 cents an ounce.

Like they always do.

But with the world coming to an end, they could’ve jacked it up a lot higher, don’t you think?

Haven’t they learned anything from the gas companies?

Well no matter the price, nothing was going to stop us from that cool, delicious treat.

When I was done I had mixed together about eight flavors.

Threw on about six toppings.

And walked out of the place for under $5.

Such a deal.

Now what I really love about the place is the service.

The self-service.

When you walk in, they hand you little sample cups.

So I took about six of them.

And filled them to the top.

In my world, that drops the price to about 24 cents an ounce.

The family of five right in front of me was mom, dad and three kids under five.

Just looking to enjoy a special moment.

Before the world comes to an end.

Well seconds after the eldest child filled her cup with the key lime/cheesecake mix, disaster struck.

No, not the end of the world.

That’s tomorrow.

Today’s disaster was the cup slipping out of the little girl’s hand and falling three feet to the floor.

Yogurt was flying everywhere.

To the poor parents, it was a tragedy.

To me, it was hilarious.

I laughed so hard.

On the inside.

Hey, if that’s my final memory before the world explodes.

I’m good.

Of course there is nothing funny about the end of the world.

But here goes.

One of my closest friends has been searching for love.

In all of the wrong places.

For many years now.

He’s found more heartache and heartbreak than a Garth Brooks song.

Exhibit A -- the time he called a girl he’d been dating for several months.

She answered the phone and said, “Hey.  I just got home and I need to check my answering machine.”

“Can I call you back?”

That was 19 years ago.

Or the time he went to dinner with a blind date.

Before they could order, her phone rang.

She said I gotta take this call.

The next thing he saw was her getting into a getaway car and screeching away from the restaurant.

Or the girl that he spoke to at a party for more than hour.

And when he asked for her number, she said...

“Oh, that won’t be happening.”

His love life has been more chaotic than... a Sunday school picnic.

Until now.

About three weeks ago, he met Mrs. Right.

Well, it may be too early to give her that moniker.

But for the purpose of this blog, let’s pretend she is Mrs. Right.

(Deep down, he thinks so.)

He already has a pet name for her.

Although he won’t tell me what it is.

Good move.

My friend’s search for a lifelong companion has been a steady topic in our inner circle.

For as long as I can remember.

He once offered us five figures, before the decimal point, to find him a mate.

So when he told me a few days ago that this could be the one.

I got real excited.

And then...

... I giggled.

Seriously.

Come on, how great would it be if the man who can’t find love.

Finds love.

The woman of his dreams.

And then the world comes to an end.

Take that answering machine girl.

And you too restaurant getaway car girl.

You too Harry.