2012: It’s the Final Countdown! Day two.

Yesterday, we started our countdown to Armaggedon It! Or just another Friday before Christmas that you can spend in fist-da-cuffs in a Wal-Mart fighting over that filthy porno doll, Elmo, or literally in fistin’ cuffs, which I’m sure exist, but I’m too afraid to google right now. (Lies. I googled it and found a lovely gay porn that featured two dicks snuggling in a butt-cheek sandwich.)

Sign Two the World Will End Dec. 21, 2012:

The proliferation of fucking flavored vodka.

Yes, that’s right. Flavored booze has been advertised by spunky Aussies looking to party, bitches trying to get skinny, and even two old coots. But it seems that the overload of recent fucking flavored vodka ads is at an all-time high. And this is a sign that the world is nearly over, we have no more new ideas except to make vodka fucking fluffed, whipped, creamed and tasting of caramel.

Since we’re all going to die, let’s relive these 30-second shill-jobs for vodka that is all simultaneously competing for the title of World’s Worst Alcohol:

First off, Amber Rose. Isn’t she fucking someone important?

Then there’s this horny broad:

And if you want to puke, just look at this page of Pinnacle flavored vodka tricks.

Why is it that this shit is always, always marketed to chicks, and P. Diddy gets to party in the desert with a bunch of cable actors? Oh, yeah, it’s because HE’S NOT DRINKING FLAVORED VODKA.

As if you needed any more proof that hell is indeed upon us, look no further than this: According to Huff Po, “nearly a quarter of all vodka consumer in 2011 was flavored…And ongoing growth for the vodka category in 2012, with flavored vodka expected to fuel that expansion with another double-digit gain.”

Sign Two the World Will Not End Dec. 21, 2012:

Because I just decided what I want to be for Halloween and wrote it in my 2013 calendar so I won’t forget and be all like, “Oh shit, what am I gonna be this year?” on Oct. 29 and get into fist-da-cuffs over the last slutty J-Lo dress at the costume store. Yeah, past self looking out for future self.

Do... or do not. There is no try.