I bet you all thought I was raptured…

But I wasn’t.

I have been prepared for the end since January-what with the birds and fish dying and the Victoria’s Secret semi-annual sale and all. Oh yes, the end was nigh.

And then I read about exploding watermelons in China and thought, “that’s some crazy shit.” (Yesterday all I wanted was watermelon and couldn’t find a whole seedless one. More proof in the pudding I say.)

But really, I haven’t been around because I came home from Hawaii to devastating tornado damage in my state. My family and all were okay-but so many weren’t. Reporters I work with were covering things like funerals of five family members-it was awful.

And then, we didn’t buy the house and I was really busy with work and buying Lilly Pulitzer to cheer me up. (The other day I received packages from BOTH UPS and FedEx-that’s some kind of feat.)

And THEN, I hear about this “church” predicting the end of the world on May 21. And, it made my head hurt. Because these people believe in the Bible but they said the end was coming based on stuff in the Bible that also says that nobody knows when the end will be. It was a lot to deal with. And since the end of the world, along with electromagnet pulses, shower curtains, solar flares and slugs is one of my biggest fears-I did have a moment of pause.

There were some things that led me to believe I was about to be called up. For example, I had a whole new clarity on some things. I FINALLY figured out that John Hughes and John Waters were NOT the same people. Honestly-this led to a great deal of confusion as I couldn’t figure out how someone could create both “Cry Baby” and “Sixteen Candles.” Add to the pile that one of them was dead and it was just a mess.

Other things that became crystal clear as the world was possibly according to some crazy man winding down? Chris Rock and Chris Tucker? NOT the same people. For years, I had them confused and thought they were the same person. But no, the same person did not appear in “The Fifth Element” and “Death at a Funeral.” (The latter is the rare occasion in which the American version is better than the British. Yes Queen Elizabeth-I went there. Thanks for the wedding invite.)

And finally, the final seal of clarity was broken. Cypress Hill and House of Pain? Also not the same band. Yes, I confused a bunch of white guys who named their band after the Wells’ novel “The Island of Dr. Moreau” with a Latino hip-hop rap band. In my defense, both of them often use the same high-pitched twirly sound in their songs. But no-there was no insane brain jumping around. Whew. What a relief!

So in light of Mother Nature being on crack and my newfound clarity, I was glad I had been behaving so well lately. I mean, just days before, four Mormons on bikes flew out in front of my car and not only did I brake, I didn’t flip them off or honk the horn. I’m pretty sure that’s a miracle that puts me in line for sainthood.

I was also glad that I kept up with my Lent give-ups (fried food and candy.) I admit when I was at a monastery in April I was awfully tempted by the sweet smell of funnel cake but I stood strong. Which worked out well because I think breaking your Lent thing around monks would be a giant black mark in the this bitch shouldn’t get raptured column. (As is most of my blog. Possibly.)

I did falter mere days before the rapture when I told a co-worker I was fairly sure she wasn’t going to be raptured and she said that was the meanest thing I had ever said to her. I’m sorry, but since I love her there’s NO WAY that was the meanest thing I’d ever said to her.

So to “rap”” this up: I’m back…not from outer space. But back nonetheless. Woohoo.