Yep. That's you. You, my dear undead homie, are just as unfit for survival scenarios as your average walker. You can't make tea, and you sure as hell can't cook brains in béchamel sauce. So let's figure out how you might at least fake being Bear Grylls if life ever flips the apocalypse switch... Speaking of which—
Hey, do you happen to have Bear Grylls' number? Of course, not real! Even the disembodied inner voice is afraid of lawsuits.
No?
Then maybe create a burner account and DM him, ask if he'll be your apocalypse roadie. The man knows how to handle himself in the tundra and the jungle. And you do have something valuable to offer in return. Yup. The crown jewel of your inventory: a one-year Pornhub Premium subscription.
Oh, you selfish gremlin! Don't wanna part with your Precious? Fine. I hereby revoke your New Zealand Hobbit Hole visa. Enjoy being alone. I'll still be here—but only in ghost mode.
Now come on, let's plan this nuclear weekend getaway of yours.
The Forest.
Listen, I've got no idea where moss actually grows. I've seen it in movies, sure. On trees. Or maybe under them? But as for using it to find north? Yeah, that's a no from me, dawg. Maybe rethink recruiting Bear into your party.
Also, let's be real: your foraging and herbology skills are clearly not maxed out. No way you're successfully identifying edible mushrooms or healing herbs. And what if you eat a poisonous one? You thought about that? Not all of them scream "I'm a death cap!" with neon signs. And the forest you're thinking of shacking up in? No oranges, no bananas. You're not surviving on bark, dude— this ain't ramen with seasoning packets.
So here's the better plan: move into a hut near the forest, ideally with a small store nearby that sells all the essentials. You don't need much. If they've got chips and soda, you'll survive—for a bit.
Until gastritis shows up and knocks on your door like an aggressive driver.
Now let's talk huts. You probably imagine your dream cabin as a janky wooden shack with a leaky roof, the kind where college kids show up with Necronomicons and start summoning demons in Latin.
Honestly? I respect it. There's some real entrepreneurial spark in you.
You could sell those chips at a markup. And demons aren't even real (just don't mention that to your customers). Worst-case scenario: you end up with a demon infestation and carpenter beetles, and have to call both pest control and the freaking Winchesters.
Only problem? You have to build that hut first. And you don't know how.
Look, I know you've watched like a dozen YouTube tutorials and now think you're the king of DIY. But did any of those off-grid gurus building houses from tinfoil, goat milk, and Loch Ness monster glands ever tell you that you need hands? Not just eyes to watch the videos—actual hands to hammer stuff.
And it's those hands that'll build your cozy forest palace in a region with solid infrastructure—but, sorry, no ocean view.
Tell you what—let me play realtor for a sec. We'll find you a pre-built little house out in the middle of nowhere. Like Wisconsin! Wait... scratch that. Dangerous too. Let's keep browsing.
One last thing: forests are creepy at night. So maybe, just maybe, consider bringing your grandma along. No, she won't be much help if a grizzly shows up, but she can read you comic books before bed.
And bonus: she's kind and wholesome. Sprinkle of cuteness for the soul.