Inspired by Mindy Kaling’s book-because she’s just the sh*t.
Death. A morbid subject, yet inevitable to all. I have been to countless wakes and funeral in my lifetime, sadly. Distant cousins, grandmothers, an uncle to a friend of a friend who my dad knew on the board of directors for our youth basketball league. I mourned the loss of my friend’s goldfish one time in the 2nd grade. We cried as it swirled down the toilet bowl.
As I’m perpetually overwhelmed with sadness during these “mourning ceremonies,” if you will, my mind does doze off occasionally to completely selfish thoughts.
Here’s what should happen at my funeral
- Cover my face in NARS, Laura Mercier, Maybelline eyeliner, and please don’t forget the Too Faced mascara. If you’re feeling crazy, you can put some Half Baked from the NAKED pallet on my eyelids. My make up routine takes no longer than 10 minutes every morning, and I don’t expect to be buried looking any different.
- I want my Instagram feed displayed on a slideshow. Filtering photos take time, and I want to be recognized for my hard work. I also spent 10 bucks on a filter package through Priime, so please don’t let that go unnoticed.
- Please don’t let anyone call it a “celebration of life.” While I understand the concept of looking on the bright side, nothing is bright about this situation. I died, and I hope you’re upset about it (at least for a little bit).
- You can use my Spotify Premium account if you want. The playlist is titled “Blog music” and it’s pretty freaking killer. I’m actually listening to it right now. The playlist is 2 hours and 49 minutes long so it should be enough time to make the repeat songs not so obvious. T. Swift is also obv a must.
- Lay me in a casket with all of the foods type 1 diabetes told me not to eat. Cookies, four cheese pasta, and bagels. A middle-finger reaction without being overly aggressive.
- On the topic of food. I’d like one section to be catered by Antonio’s and Mike’s Pastry while the other section is catered by Sweetgreen and Berkshire Dining Commons (UMass <3). Don’t you hate when there’s not a SINGLE healthy option? Not to be that girl…but seriously.
- Delete my social media accounts (besides Insta). Social media is debilitating as is and looking at a dead person’s Facebook account is creepily and oddly satisfying. I don’t want to be the dead person’s Facebook you are creeping just because I am dead.
- I don’t mind if people I dislike show up, but to my friends: this does not mean you can stop disliking the people I disliked pre-death just because they showed up at my funeral post-death. We still don’t like them. Shoot them death stares in my honor (pun totally intended).
- I don’t mind if you browse on your phone while waiting in line. You could miss out on groundbreaking news about J Biebs using adult coloring books or Kim K coming out as a lesbian. This is important news you must share with me in your prayers.
- Use the money you saved on expensive catering and a morbid make up artist and travel somewhere to spread my ashes. Somewhere I’ve never been and probably would never go to. I imagine the dialogue to go something like this:
Person A: “Where’d you spread Beth’s ashes?”
Person B: “Oh, you know, across the O’Higgin’s Lake.”
Person A: “The where?”
Person B: “O’Higgin’s Lake. It’s in South America.”
Person A: “Hey, did you hear where they spread Beth’s ashes?”
Person C: “Yeah, somewhere in South America. I had to Google it.”
Person A: “Saammmeeee.”
Do you see what I did there? A could-be depressing conversation turned into discovering a sweet new place on the map. I want my legacy to be “the girl who got her ashes spread in O’Higgin’s Lake,” then people just ask more questions about me.
11. As for my obituary in the paper, as a selfie for a picture showing half of my face or a picture of my feet at an attempt to be blogger-esque is probably fitting, but please refrain. I want the cool pic of me with lions. If you’re attending my funeral whenever that may be, you know exactly what picture I’m talking about. That picture is my pride and joy (pun not intended but after typing it I’m realizing I should address the punny-ness). The text must be free of grammatical errors, as that was always my biggest turn off when it came to guys, next to cargo shorts. Not that my obituary should be a testament to my taste in men, because I’m totally not obsessed with talking about them or anything- but you get the idea. Mention my blog, the spike in views will boost my self-confidence in the grave. Leave out the description of my “drunk voice” when I’ve had one too many vodka sodas, but please end every sentence with a pizza emoji. A full buyout of the front page for this is what I’m expecting, but I’ll settle with a half page next to the puzzles too.
LMK if you have any additional questions, thx.