Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Fool's Gold

I was thinking recently about how celebrities seem to like to die on tropical islands (i.e. Anna Nicole's son), when I was struck with the most brilliant way to leave my very own news-worthy "dead mark".

Here it is:

I'm not guaranteeing I will die on a tropical island, because honestly, I'd rather go to Europe. But everyone else in the world seems to llloooovvvee islands. So, immediately following my death/autopsy/taxidermy whathaveyou, I am going to have myself shipped to some beautiful island to be interred.

That way my future grandchild can say,
"Aww man! Gramma's dead! This is awful!"
and then their sibling can comfortingly reply,
" Yes, but islands are AWESOME!".
Nothing makes a funeral better than a required trip to the tropics!

I also hope for this to be a good bailout card for all future relatives, however obscurely connected. Because, I'll be damned, if my second husbands nieces mother in laws grandson is stuck in some shitty law firm, working overtime, I want him to have a getaway. I will be that getaway. He'll simply tell the boss there's been a family emergency and off he'll go to the tropics! When he arrives on the island, all he has to do is stop by my grave at some point and take a "Certificate of Relative Death Legitimarus", copies of which I will have attached to my grave, either like post-it's or in one of those boxes that relators put floor-plans in. Haven't decided yet.

And I guess there's always the odd chance that one of my spora will be as big a googlephiliac as I, and may find research on me, say on and upon realizing there is no .jpeg image of my actual grave, will feel obligated to capture one hisself. The trend will catch on and lead to a merging of , Expedia and Kleenex. The conglomerate will hopefully be named after me.

So there you have it. I have found a way to make sure my selfishness endureth forever. Because, the excused vacation, fun as it may be, is all possible because of me. It's really my attempt to ensure a kick ass "Cool Mom" status post-mortem.

*** Note to self: Be sure to scout islands before death to ensure soil depth and gauge rainfall. The goal is not to pull a "Poltergeist" every time a rainstorm comes. I ain't no sea-dogs Milk bone.***

P.P.S. RE: 1st entry- I learned the next day that it was the wrong toothbrush. Woof!

Monday, July 13, 2009


Things that are NOT fun to realize after the fact:
-After brushing your teeth vigorously for a couple of minutes, killing cavities galore, and diligently scrubbing with the tongue cleaner, that you're pretty sure your toothbrush is the pink one...Not the orange one in your hand.

Proof that it is God's will that I do not ever get to bed at a reasonable hour:
-Why else would the lame radio channels on TV play the following series of songs, just as I was getting prepared for bed, if not to stop that immediately and begin to boogie & retrogress about my elementary years?
Song One: "All I Have to Give" -The Backstreet Boys (1999)
Song Two: "Whatta Man" - Salt 'n Peppa (1993)
Song Three: "I Don't Want to Wait"-[a.k.a. the Dawson's Creek theme song] Paula Cole (1996)

So, take THAT Scopes v. State!