Just in case anybody would like to wish me a happy birthday...today is it. I'm 45. We celebrated this morning with German chololate cake for breakfast and my wife got me the coolest gift ever...a dowling jig. That's right, a dowling jig...look it up!
The story about Keith Richards snorting his fathers ashes and my BD prompted a discussion this morning about our plans for....you know....after. I don't have any desire to be buried and promptly forgotten. I am going to be cremated and have my ashes stored in a cool looking urn with a state-of-the-art holographic projection of me looking at you with those creepy eyes that follow you around the room.
Feel free to leave your plans for...you know...after, in the comments section. I'll post them later.
2 comments:
Ed: Happy birthday, even though it is late. Now about Keith Richards and his coke/ dads ashes. That is wrong on so many levels its not funny. Drugs- bad idea #1. Mixing them with soot - bad idea #2. Knowing that the soot is your father - real bad, almost sick. Snorting above concoction - bad idea #3. Admitting to anyone - bad idea #4.
Discussing that your father will now always be with you, completely off the charts bad. This guy needs to go to some degenerate nursing home for punked out old grey headed rockers that cant think straight, or he could start dating Yoko Ono - that would really be a bad idea. Can Johnny come out to play?
I think that fall out of the palm tree in the South Pacific this winter has had a lasting neural effect.
Post a Comment