Tuesday, September 13, 2011

I observed a funeral yesterday and now have requests. There was a man there wearing a wifebeater, with a completely unbuttoned shirt, and a belt with the confederate flag on its buckle along with the haul ass mudflap girls. And he had extremely shitty tattoos. I've given my brother full authority to shoot you onsite if you pull that shit when the lord finally allows me to die. Just so you know, they will chop my head off to prevent zombification, and they're going to pack my casket with dynamite. I found out they allow you to pick what songs they play, so whoever delivers the eulogy will have to say there's a part in this song I need you to sing along to and when you figure it out, I need you to holler. And I hope when you think of me years down the line, you can't find one good thing to say. And then the dynamite comes into play, I want to be blown up because I don't want to be underneath the ground. Before they asplode me, make sure everyone knows I hate them. Also, somewhere in there, there needs to be a moment of laughter, not silence. Tell stories of stupid shit that I did, there's plenty of them.

said Tommy T. at 9:17 AM - #

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