Funeral Arrangements and Whatnot

In light of our (you know who you are) recent discussion and subsequent pact (Rachel excepting) regarding our funeral wishes, I feel it necessary to actually write my requests down. This is not because I do not love you or trust that you are capable of carrying out my requests, but, rather, I wish to impress upon you the fact that I was being DEAD serious (pun shamelessly intended). I am somewhat concerned that my desires might be ignored, or worse yet, confused with the absurd requests of other members of the “death pact committee.” SO, if you’ve ever loved me at all, you will kindly:

• Send all my IKEA furniture to starving college students in the tri-state area.
• Hand out the rest of my crap as party favors at my funeral in addition to noisemakers and Michael Bolton Christmas tree ornaments bought exclusively from the Dollar Store. Get my mom to take care of that one. She’s probably already got a stash in the basement.
• Set up a karaoke machine at my wake for anyone who may need a little “rockatherapy!” Plenty of Bruce and Neil should be on the choice list.
• Insist that friends and family should come dressed in appropriate attire—which means in costume from one of our parties of yesteryear. Rachel gets dibs on the Halloween sweater vest.
• Have me seated upright, hand extended as if to shake, at my viewing. As friends and family come to shake hands with my corpse, I want one of those scary-ass haunted house chain saws to come out from underneath my chair, playfully jabbing at my loved ones’ ankles. Sure—it might give people a start, but I think people will appreciate it later when they think about it.
• (after the viewing) Make sure that I am frozen like Hans Solo, blasted apart, and then distributed among friends and family members to discard of in the most creative way they can imagine. The individual with the most creative disposal will win my couches and my ectoplasmic protection. If there should happen to be more contestants than available body bits, participants should be chosen lottery-style.
• Make sure my tombstone reads: It’s like Murphy DEFINITELY used to say, “If you break an arm in California, plant a sword in Arizona.” (*Note* This request is subject to change depending on future phrases the emerge from “alternate telephone.”)

That’s all for now. I thank you in advance for your willingness to cooperate.

"Dearly Beloved. We are gathered here today to get through this thing called life." ~ Prince