Last night I took the stinkiest cab ride home of MY LIFE. It was some serious next level funk. I don't recall exactly what I said, but I know I was very put out with the cabbie and put my head out the window, gagging for air. Then I texted my coworker that I had just left, "if this stinky dude kills me, Jenny knows my dying wishes." I'm not really sure why I thought the guy would kill me (ie did I think the stench would suffocate me? Or was I so rude to this guy that I thought he would kill me with his bare hands? The world will never know), but more importantly, Jenny in fact does NOT know my dying wishes. Here they are, please make sure she sticks to them.
1. Only Creedence is allowed to be played at my memorial service. At first I was gonna go with the Mac, but that is just straight up depressing. I want people to party and remember how awesome I am/was. Preferably this song should be on repeat.
2. Following the memorial service I would like Jenny to host a sandwich dinner in my honor. There should be hoagies, Vietnamese sammies, grilled cheeses, etc. No paninis though. Can't stand those bitches.
3. Jenny is in charge of doling out my possessions. No ifs ands or buts. Gandy made a prior request for all of my books but since that dude no-showed on my birthday and has yet to speak to me (AHEM), he is no longer allowed. I think I will give them to ...charity.
4. Everyone must get Red Velvet tattoos. These can be in any form my buddies see fit. A classily placed RV on the ankle is just as good as an actual slice of the cake on someone's butt.
5. For every February 20th after my death, everyone must get together and drink champagne while watching Star Wars. The original 3. All in a row.