Ashes to Ashes, Funk to Funky

Every once in a while, I'll walk by someone who is outside "enjoying" a cigarette and thank God that I no longer smoke -- and that I no longer have even the slightest craving. Alleluia.

I guess that means that I don't need this.



To co-opt Joel Johnson's joke as my own, this ashtray would go great with my liver shot glasses.

It's All About Me

When I was younger, I told my mom that I hoped I died before her because I couldn't bear to live without her. Her response? "That is so selfish! How do you think I would feel?"

Oddly enough, I hadn't really thought about it that way.

A while back ago, I told my girlfriend DeeDee that I wanted my ashes to be scattered at Cape Hatteras because it's my favorite beach in the U.S. (so far). She responded by saying, "That is so selfish! You're going to make your husband drive 11 hours with your dead body in the car?"

Once again, not my problem.

Similarly, my mom told us that she wanted each of her children to take some of her ashes, go on a trip (not with each other necessarily) and scatter her around the world -- we could choose anywhere as long as we were having fun. My sister says she's going to throw mom in front of Eastview Mall so she can visit her every weekend.

Works for me!

Yeah, I know, I seem to be on this weird death kick lately in here but thought these few stories had a common thread: per usual, it really is all about me.