Monday, December 20, 2004

When I'm Dead

I’m not terminally ill, but I think about what will happen after I’m dead. It pisses Monkey Man off when talk about it, especially when I pick out new wives for him. I can’t help it. I want him to be happy.

Much like my hair, I want my funeral to have a slightly dramatic flair.

I want all of my friends, lovers and past lovers to be at my funeral. There will be standing room only as all the sad beautiful people stagger in under the weight of their grief. Mid-service, the funeral director will have to send his assistant to the Quik Stop for more tissues because there will be so much weeping and wailing. Huge bouquets of flowers will be everywhere.

The service will start with a fantastic Drag Queen singing, "Like a Virgin" by our beloved Madonna (unless of course Madonna is available to perform – that would suck if I was dead and missed that!).

The rest of the service will be brief, because no one really wants to be at a funeral. They only go because they feel they ought to go.

Throughout the service, mom will be craning her neck and whispering to my exasperated sisters trying to figure out who all the sobbing people are.

My niece and nephews will be bummed because their cool aunt is dead and now they’re stuck with really boring relatives who don’t even own any wigs, hats or feather boas. And, no one else knows where every single good park in the universe is, or how to transform from a beautiful woman into a grotesque tickle monster in 3-seconds flat. Fortunately, I’ve begun writing them a guidebook about how to grow up and be cool, so they won’t end up like their parents.

My Dad will be so sad that I don’t want to think about it.

After the service, I want all my lovers to gather for a toast. I hope they all say that I made them happy for a little while. And, after the toast, some of them will keep drinking a bit. Then, there will probably be a fight in the parking lot over who loved me the most. My Monkey Man should stay out of it. First, because he DOES love me the most. Second, because he’s a delicate flower and he’d get his ass kicked. Actually, everyone should stay out of it if MH is involved because he used to be a bouncer and he has biceps as big as my Amazon thighs. He’s also gonna be really upset if I die before he tells me how much he loves me, so he’ll be extra pissy at the funeral.

After the fight, everyone should make-up and remember that I’m the Love Goddess and I would want all y’all to be nice to each other.

Once the rituals are over, I hope a lot of people have lots and lots of sex in honor of my life. Maybe once the children and my boring relatives leave, there could be a really cool group thing!

I want my body to be cremated. Spread my ashes over the vegetable garden in the fall. A year later, everyone should get together for a garden gazpacho party and eat me.

2 Comments:

At 7:59 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

It's good to have a plan...I would be honored to eat you.
Tom

 
At 9:11 AM, Blogger theresa said...

Tom, I never tire of hearing men say that to me.

 

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