If I Die Before I Wake.....

You all know how I like to read the obits and make fun of people, yes? Of course, that means I'm making fun of dead people, but they're now one of the following:
A. Supposedly basking in the glow of their Father in heaven and are too busy Hallejuahing to care
B. Pissed off in hell and deserve the mocking anyway
C. Just gone and truly dust in the wind (if they did it right and were cremated; if they opted for burial, well then they're just worm food). 

But they're dead and I'm not, and had they spent a little less time serving the community, fishing, or dedicating their lives to their families/Elks Club/silly little hobbies while they were alive and spent a bit more time finalizing their own obits, they probably wouldn't make it into my blog. This is why we make living wills, people. It's not about ending up a veggie on life support or your quality of life (which in itself is always an oxymoron; quality of life is a term used only when people suspect you no longer have any). Nope, it's all about how you'll be remembered based on your obituary - your legacy, your final chapter and THE END in big letters, your coup de grace in a life that (hopefully) had meaning. 

I find it laughable, naive, irksome to read that a person was loved by all who knew her. Really?? Every single person she ever crossed paths with just loved her? What about the lady at the dentist's office who she was always rude to about her bill? What about the hairdresser who faithfully shaped her sky high beehive once a week with nothing more than a $1 tip out of her frugal little arthritic fingers? It's like a car commercial that advertises amazing financing, but the small print reads not everyone will qualify. To me, that's just bullshit. They can't KNOW that for a statistical fact. Sure, most won't, but not 100% everyone. What if only five people apply for that and they're all Bill Gates rich? Hmmm??? The same unproven certainty of loved by all makes me want to stand outside the funeral home and survey everyone to see if it's true. I'll be the one standing at the guest registry book,* handing the pen to people while quietly murmuring, "Please sign here. Also, did you love her or did you think her Aqua Netted 'do was just a bit annoying when you had to sit behind her in church? Yes? Can you please initial here?" Once I have at least one person admitting they didn't truly love her, then I can just stun them all with a theatrical AHA! See???? I knew ALL didn't love her! In your FACE! **

Some obits are obviously just a poor relative's attempt to make it to press time while still in shock. These are the ones that just briefly say: 

Georgia Smith, age 83, St. Paul, MN. Survived by loving husband, Joe. Services at.... 

This was Georgia's everlasting final mistake - neglecting her duties to provide her loved ones with a properly written last testament of her life. Because if you don't, then you risk getting the Academy Award Speech Obituary: 

Georgia Smith (nee Roberts), age 83, of St. Paul, MN, formerly of Des Moines, IA, passed away peacefully surrounded by family. She is preceded in death by her mom, her dad, her sister, her dog, her sunflower garden. She is survived by her husband, Joe, her brother, Mike, her children, Denise, Bob, and Stan, her 17 grandchildren, and 5 great-grandchildren. We would like to thank the caring and capable staff at Winter Village Retirement Home for their amazing service and care. 

Sorry, but when I go, it's ME who's getting the spotlight. Not whoever went before me (who all had their chances but probably forgot to write their own obits and are now trying to squeeze in on MY time), who's left behind (you'll all die soon enough, wait your own fucking turn), and whoever changed my catheter bag and kept me stoned on morphine in the few months before I went (they're medical professionals and they get paid to do that). Tell your peeps that now isn't the time for them to get their names in the paper. We don't need to know that you're not only survived by your five children, but also their names, maiden names, stupid ass NICKNAMES, and spouses. People who know you already know all this. People who don't know you don't give a fuck and surely never will because now you're dead and they have no reason to get to know you or your family better. If these asshole hangers-on need attention so badly, tell them to either weep really loudly at the service or die now and get their own damn obit. Nope, it better be all about me and the REAL me. I don't want people to remember that I went to church (allegedly) and baked a fantastic apple pie (truly). I want my obituary to reflect the TRUE me, the me who people really knew, the me who was loved or hated, whichever it might be. 

I also feel if this is your final reflection, let it be clear. Did you die from cancer? Did you die from hitting a tree drunk off your ass in your car? Did you fall and couldn't get up? Were you on The First 48 and the detectives effed up your case and now you're on Unsolved Mysteries? No one wants to read how you ended your courageous battle with cancer or that you peacefully went with the angels to be with the Lord (again, more assumptions that just make me want to debunk your afterlife as if I were searching Snopes for the truth). We wanna know why you're not here anymore, dammit! It's the end of your story and you're obviously not gonna get a sequel, so work it, bitch! 

When I die, if I've got cancer, I'm gonna have it say, She had cancer of her girly parts and eventually the chemo just kicked her ass. Plus, she really hated having to wear diapers and finally just requested to be dumbed down with morphine until she kicked it. I've even prepared Jay that if I die suddenly to make sure it's well documented and dramatic. If I die unexpectedly, my obit shall simply read: 

WTF??? We seriously have no idea what happened. Seriously. It was so fucked up. We're still in shock. Plausible suggestions and comments will be accepted via Facebook and/or Twitter.

Now that's what I (and George Costanza) would call ending on a high note. 

*WTF is with the guest registry book at a funeral? Do the loved ones look through it later like a newly wedded couple to see who actually showed up, who blew it off, and who left a money card? 

**I think this need for sincerity and accuracy might be how people of Westboro Baptist Fake Ass Church might have gotten started. I might rethink this part.