Sunday, October 24, 2010
I hate funerals. HATE them.
Tell stories about me. Laugh. No black. Sorry, I know how much some of you love black...it is slimming, but no. You can't wear it to my funeral.
If you didn't bother to call me or stop by during the last year of my life, don't show up at my damn funeral. I wouldn't have done it to you, which is why I don't go to that many. Don't come for my family if you didn't know me. Take them to dinner or out shopping in the months after I'm gone when they're sad.
I'd like some party balloons, no funeral homes. Purple and lime green? Red and cream? Pink and orange? Lots of flowers and yeah, they'll be gone in a week but at that moment, they'll be beautiful!
I don't care if you bury me, cremate me, or float me out on a flaming viking boat and serve shots. I'm dead. I promise, I won't care.
What I do want you to do is remember me and enjoy those memories while you're gathered together with my friends. Oh, and turn on that Ghost Radar app on my ipod. I'm definitely going to say hello from the other side!