Dispatches From My Ass*…
So first out of the box, what’s with wedding and funerals? Sorry, Seinfeld reference. I’m watching it now, and there were so many good points.
I am a firm believer that everything in our lives can somehow be traced back to one of the many Seinfeld episodes.
Ponies for instance. Who has a pony? If you do, or you did, do you still? And why?
I mean the poop alone would put me off. Not to mention the big ass, glassy looking eyes. I have enough problems with our cat, Corky, zoning off.
Now, weddings…Good Lord!!Why pay all that money for gowns, dinner, gifts, bridesmaids, etc. For what?
So you can live with this person, whom I guarantee you will fucking hate in eight months?
Do as I do. Shack the fuck up for almost nine years, and have a blast!
Save money, still in love, and the sex never gets old. Novel idea, no?
Funerals? Same thing. Do you even know you’re dead? I don’t think so.
Even if you do, would you like a whole bunch, or in my case not a whole bunch of people, crying and looking at your redesigned dead body in a box?
I know my Dad did not appreciate the showing at his funeral.
His pre-corpse words were, and I quote...
“Hey Girlie, burn me, stick me in a beer can, and put me on the ice box.”
Unfortunately, Mommmmm didn’t want to do that. She is such a killjoy.
When I die, just throw me atop a bonfire. Hell, my liver should keep the pyrotechnics glowing for days.
If Matt wants to utter a brief eulogolical (is that a word?) remark such as, “She was the best pussy I ever had.” That’s cool too.
However, he’ll probably reserve that post-mortem accolade for when our zoned-out cat, Corky, kicks the bucket. Bastard.
Where was I? Oh yea, inside my own fucked up head. Sorry about the language. It’s French, right? Right? OMG the voices!!
I have no point really. Just that I hate weddings, funerals…..and obviously….ponies.
Thank you and come again…
Zoves,
Schmoop
*I really liked all of the title ideas you guys came up with for my entries, however…Matt-Man liked his, Dispatches from my Ass idea best (naturally).
When I die, just throw me atop a bonfire. Hell, my liver should keep the pyrotechnics glowing for days.
If Matt wants to utter a brief eulogolical (is that a word?) remark such as, “She was the best pussy I ever had.” That’s cool too.
However, he’ll probably reserve that post-mortem accolade for when our zoned-out cat, Corky, kicks the bucket. Bastard.
Where was I? Oh yea, inside my own fucked up head. Sorry about the language. It’s French, right? Right? OMG the voices!!
I have no point really. Just that I hate weddings, funerals…..and obviously….ponies.Thank you and come again…
Zoves,
Schmoop
*I really liked all of the title ideas you guys came up with for my entries, however…Matt-Man liked his, Dispatches from my Ass idea best (naturally).
As not to harm his massive, yet fragile ego, I went with that. God, it’s so hard living with him.
