Final wishes

When I die, either by some terribly embarrassing freak accident, or in some pre-meditated shit carried out by someone I angered writing one of these blogs I wouldn’t line a hamster cage with, I want some basics at my funeral. Oh, wait, you may require a lubricant before I go in with four fingers. Allow me to backpedal a bit.

[Sets stage]

Yesterday I was talking to someone [internet conversation with a faceless stranger] about how when we self-diagnose on WebMD, other websites, or apps, [there are no others, that’s the only one in existence] we ought to just get a jumpstart on our funeral plans right then. To my delight, his response was that he’d already had his music playlist and t-shirt cannon picked out. Well, dammit, I can’t allow a total stranger to be more prepared and with better funeral plans than myself. Here, we find ourselves.

The most important thing for my funeral is that my physical body isn’t there. I’ve donated all my parts to science, because I’m fucking awesome. I’ve donated marrow, eyes, skin [I have great skin] and only kept a kidney on ice in case my mom needs it down the line. Love you, mom. I still got your back. The rest is about to get funky. I’m about to throw my ideas out there in random order and briefly elaborate. Judge if you must, it just makes you a dick.

I want music played. Specifically, I feel like Motown would be a good choice. The Commodores, The Marvelettes, Rick James, The Four Tops, Stevie Wonder, The Supremes; are you snapping your fingers or seat dancing yet? None of that bridge over troubled water bullshit for me. I want my guests to be happy. Actually, I don’t really give a fuck about you guys. I’m certain I’m still hanging around, checking things out. This would legit be the first party I’d be comfortable at knowing I’d not be said hello to. Plus, I want to try that whole “walking through people” thing you see in the movies. I could probably entertain myself that way for at least 20 mins. Good music is essential; I can’t walk through people listening to depressing ballads.

Appetizers must be shit that I would never be caught eating while alive. You know the kind of shit that tastes really good but that I’d always be concerned about sodium, fat, or how badly it’d wreck my ass later? That stuff. On the menu will be pizza rolls and Hawaiian Punch. They can’t be generic pizza rolls either; they have to be Totino’s pizza rolls. They’re the flakiest, crispiest, and the ones that burn the inside of your mouth with every fucking bite. The roof of my mouth has been resurfaced with pizza sauce since the combination accident of 1998.

At this time I’d like to add Bagel Bites to the menu. I don’t think they’re palatable at all; I’d just enjoy watching people lose teeth biting into them. Bagel Bites have a shelf-life. If you don’t eat them within 7.5 minutes of cooking them, you might as well chomp down, with full force, on a hockey puck. You will lose teeth eating these cardboard bastards if you haven’t already lost them from the sugar in the Hawaiian Punch I’m serving. Can you pass me a pizza roll? Never mind, I’ll get it *reaches through you*

Now, not to steal your idea, internet stranger, but the t-shirt cannon is genius and I want one too. I’m still working on the t-shirt specifics, but I was thinking that guests would get a teabag full of me when they leave. After donating all of my organs I was cremated; the logical endgame. It makes sense to offer guests a parting gift, kind of like a wedding favor, but you won’t find this on Etsy. It might also be hard finding friends - the living kind, willing to shove chunky “Tina dust” into little sash bags by the spoonful, tie it off with a string and paper strip, and label the flavor “Tina Grey” or “MintTina.”

Physical activity is important to me, so I’d like to leave my guests with another gift that will remind them of me and benefit their health. Under each guests’ chair they’ll find a Shake Weight. This is the gift that just keeps giving. I’m shaking my head as I’m writing this. You all should know that I firmly grasp the level of idiocy taking place here. You should also try living in my head for day; you’d have so much fun! You might find yourself involuntarily committed, but you’d also have so much fun.

Other Misc. Stuff

Pets are allowed but not if you’re going to whine about it being a service animal. You’re probably full of shit and I honestly don’t care. If your pet is a rescue or a stray that you’ve adopted, it is welcome at the head of my table and should eat before you do. Hell, I don’t care if you bring your goldfish; you just take responsibility for that shit and hold on to it. If someone else’s cat gets hungry that’s your problem. *sings ‘The Circle of Life’*

I’m still hashing out the rest of the details. I feel like this is a good start and my attention span won’t allow for more writing at this point. Don’t forget your complimentary “Tina Teabags” and Shake Weights on the way out. Please don’t throw the Bagel Bites as they are considered dangerous at this point. Thank you for your attendance.