Zombies Should Use Condiments

I took a survey awhile ago that was titled something like "How Long Would You Survive the Zombie Apocalypse?" I flipped through the questions, answering them cockily, as if I knew I would be among the last left standing. I mean, I've watched every episode of both The Walking Dead and Fear the Walking Dead, not to mention all the movies that have been made. I read The Zombie Survival Guide and World War Z. Based on all the zombie-related information I've consumed since childhood, I have multiple survival plans in place based on where I'm at (home, work, playing volleyball, a bar) when it dawns on me that the "illness" is actually a deadly virus turning everyone into the walking dead. I've seen Shaun of The Dead: I know what not to do as well...although I know my friends wouldn't mind meeting their end in our favorite bar.

My results? Six months.

180 days until I'm gnawed on by a zombie and meet my demise. I like to think that one of my friends would stab me in the head to ensure that I don't turn, but I could see them putting a collar on me and leading me around like a rabid dog.

I'm pretty sure my results were skewed so low because I answered the question "How often do you bathe?" truthfully: one to two times a day, depending on what I've done that day. However, if necessary, I could go an extended time without bathing. I don't mind smelling -- it's not like anyone would care at that point either. I could do it.

But then I started thinking about it. Really thinking about my survival abilities, and I realized I would likely die within the first few days. While I have many weaknesses that would hinder me, I've narrowed it down to my Top 3 weaknesses in the zombie end-of-days:

1. I don't like to run. When I do run, I'm incredibly slow and I complain a lot. This does not bode well when being chased by a) zombies or b) live people who might be after me for my supplies. I'd rather just sit down and either a) let the zombie chow down on me or b) give someone my said supplies. My constant whining while running would also give away my location.
2. I like to drink beer. Well, and wine. And summer beer mixed drinks. And Moscow mules. Really, I just like to have a few drinks. So I'd throw a couple beers back, forget that I'm supposed to be on the lookout for potential zombies, and suddenly have my jugular ripped out by a zombie child.
3. I have no upper-body strength. In the event that I came in to hand-to-hand combat with a zombie and I was forced to jab a steak knife through it's skull (because, let's be real, I the only weapon I would likely find myself with in the zombie apocalypse is a steak knife), I would not have the strength to drive it through its skull. Even if it was a zombie that had decomposed to the point that the skull was a little flimsy.

All said, my meticulous zombie survival plans, diagrams, and maps won't help me with these fatal flaws of mine. When the chaos ensues, I'll be sure to pass the along to my friend or family member that I think has the greatest chance of survival and rebuilding society, and will then tell them not to wait for me if we're chased by a zombie herd. Best of luck, my friends.