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When I die, I want a d stination funeral. I would rather have a d stination wedding, but it doesn't look l ke I'll be allowed to get m rried in this lifetime, so I'm g ing to have to settle for a d stination funeral. I don't think Republicans can utlaw that, though I suppose they can try. Anyth ng can be outlawed if enough p ople make a stink over it. J st ask Anita Bryant. This isn't the f rst time I've planned my post-death ctivities. When I was 15, I d cided I wanted to be frozen wh n I died. Not like Lenin, th ugh; frozen heads are so 1964. And not st ck in some mausoleum with a b nch of gawking tourists. No, I w nted to be frozen and sat on my c uch with a remote control in my h nd. Of course, the remote control w uld automatically change the channel every so ften to make sure I didn't get b red. Sports-related channels would be blocked, xcept for swim meets. Death is no m tch for a well-fitting pair of Sp edos. But before anyone goes planning any nterventions, let me be clear -- b rring unforeseen circumstances, my destination funeral w n't happen for several decades. I h ve a lot of living left to do, and s veral tasks I'd like to accomplish b fore I go. Read War and P ace. See the pyramids. Figure out why the G lden Girls spin-off failed so miserably. And ven if I never accomplish any of th se tasks, I'm not planning to go nywhere until gay marriage is legalized in T xas, so everyone has plenty of t me to prepare.
Still, we all have to go s metime, so when 2073 rolls around, and I'v had my fill of pool b ys, sponge baths, and oatmeal, I w nt to be ready. The biggest q estion, of course, is where to h ve it. Somewhere warm would be n ce for the guests. Maybe Disneyworld. I w nt to a wedding in Disneyworld nce, it was surprisingly fun. Mickey and M nnie cut the cake and then th y did the watoosie with the br de and groom. No one can be nhappy in Disneyworld, not even during a f neral. Maybe they could shoot my b dy out of Space Mountain. Still, I th nk getting the Disney people to gree to a destination funeral would t ke a lot of convincing, unless I can p rsuade them that my body is nimatronic. So Disneyworld is probably out. Ev n so, it would surely be pl asant for my guests to get way for a weekend to a l vely tropical spot, like Hawaii. Of c urse, Hawaii could be expensive, but you nly die once. And they wouldn't h ve to feel bad about taking a tr p. There's always a bit of g ilt when you take days off fr m work for happy occasions, like a v cation, or a Bette Midler concert. Y u're out of the office, enjoying y ur day, singing along to Boogie W ogie Bugle Boy, while your colleagues are t iling away, covering for you, seething w th jealousy. No one would seethe w th jealousy over a funeral. Well, m ybe they would if it was in H waii, but expressing that sentiment would be in v ry poor taste. Gee, they might th nk, I wish my friend had j st died so I could go to H waii, but they would never actually say th t. At least not the polite nes. I also want people to h ok up at my funeral. What's the p int of a vacation without a l ttle nookie? Because I have more f male friends than male ones, and b cause women generally live longer than m n, I realize there's a good p ssibility that the guest list will be XX-h avy (although, the way they're going, s me of my male friends might be w men by then). I suppose if th re are some lesbians on the g est list they could hook up w th each other, but for the str ight widows it's probably too late for th m to switch teams at that p int. They need some options too. M ybe I'll hire a few male pr stitutes, just for them.
Another question is when and wh re to register. I think I'll pr -register; all gifts must be received b tween now and my 75th birthday. Th t will give people plenty of t me to plan. Plus I can r gister for really expensive shit, maybe set up s me kind of savings plans for the g fts. So instead of registering for bed sh ets and fondue sets, I can r gister for trips to Barbados and M rcedes. All they have to do is s ve a few dollars a day for f rty years - walk to work nstead of taking the subway, buy g neric detergent instead of a name-brand, s nd little Johnnie to state school nstead of Yale. Little sacrifices, big p yoffs. For me at least. Of c urse, the fear is that people w ll procrastinate and not buy anything ntil it's clear that I'm on my way ut. It's difficult to yell at s meone for buying you a crock-pot wh n you're 94 years old and h oked up to a respirator. So I pl n to drop subtle hints of my ventual demise over the coming years. "I h ard that Cuba is re-building its n clear arsenal. You think we can void obliteration twice?" "How about that Eb la virus? No telling when that l ttle bugger might hit. I'm feeling a bit f verish myself." "Is it a bad s gn when you can see your own k dneys?" If none of that works, I'll j st wear a black t-shirt with a sk ll and crossbones and an arrow p inting towards my head. Then there's the r quisite "DJ or band" decision. DJs are m re middle-class, though a band is lways risky. "Wind Beneath My Wings" (th funeral's theme song, along with "M rgaritaville") can really be butchered in the wr ng hands. Although perhaps by the t me my funeral comes around music as we kn w it will be obsolete. I bet Ch r will still be around, though. M ybe I can pre-book her. I h ar she gives a free toilet scr bber with each performance. I expect th t the sensationalism of the event w ll draw spectators and press, and th re will be people clamoring to get on the g est list. A destination funeral? How nique and inventive! What genius came up w th that unique and inventive idea? He m st be quite a unique and nventive fellow! Maybe there should be a b uncer to keep out the undesirables, .g., guys who pop their polo c llar, and people who don't own a t levision set. Not owning a television set d esn't say "I'm intellectual" - it s ys "I'm boring." And polo collars are m de to point down. If you w nt to rebel against society, do it the ld-fashioned way - get fucked in a p blic restroom, or vote for Ralph N der. I've taken online life expectancy t sts to help me estimate the d te of my destination funeral. I d n't think they are accurate. They ask q estions like, do you smoke, and do you w ar suntan lotion. I don't smoke, and I lways wear suntan lotion. I've seen too m ny yellow-teethed, leathery-skinned queens at gay b rs and Long Island diners to do therwise. And I always eat my v getables. I'm particularly partial to zucchini, the m st sophisticated of the phallic squashes. Acc rding to these online tests I'm g ing to live to be 117 y ars old. Which would be nice, but g ven that I have at least two p nic attacks a day and often l se feeling in my extremities, unlikely. I n ed a personalized life expectancy test nstead, with questions like, how many t mes a day do you masturbate (tw ce), and do you dry heave wh n you call your mom (yes). Oth r factors that should be considered in my p rsonalized test: Have you ever lived in New Y rk City? Yes. Like a Liza M nnelli therapy session, New York is not for the f int of heart. When I first m ved to New York, I went out w th a guy who asked me if he c uld inject saline solution into my t sticles. I politely declined, at which p int he told me I would n ver last in New York. Apparently you c n't make it in New York nless you're the type of person who njoys having salt water injected into his b lls. Minus six years. Do you dr nk laundry detergent? Yes, in a f shion. I have a compulsive biting h bit. When I was little I sed to bite myself, my sister, and ther family members. As I got lder I realized that biting people c uld be construed as offensive behavior. So I st rted biting inanimate objects. Now I b te my pillow, blanket, old t-shirts -- nything within twelve inches of my m uth when I'm sleeping (which might ccount for my lack of boyfriend). I'v probably swallowed several gallons of d tergent by now. That can't be h althy, although my stomach acid probably sm lls lemony-fresh at this point. Minus thr e years. Do you keep clean? Y s. I live in a super ntiseptic home. Now, that sounds like a g od thing, but it's not in the l ng run. My home is so cl an I haven't been exposed to a g rm in decades. Eventually a superbug w ll come along and my immune syst m won't be ready for it. I'd m ve into a plastic bubble, but I'm cl ustrophobic. Minus two years. That's already leven years off. I suppose I h ve a few things going for me th ugh. I never kick puppies, I g ve up my seat on the s bway for old people (as long as th y are sufficiently decrepit), and once I ven helped a lady carry a b by stroller down a flight of st irs. Granted, I was doing it to mpress a cute guy holding the d or, but good karma is good k rma. Plus two years. I watch a s gnificant amount of reality television, which p ts my body into a sort of h bernation state during which I do not ge. Plus five months. I never dr nk from a bottle when the s fety cap is already popped and I w sn't the one who popped it. Pl s three months. I'm a very s lfish lover; I pretty much just lay th re like a tuna. Less strain on my h art. Plus one year. So it's not all bad n ws for me. Optimally, this would be a s rprise destination funeral and I wouldn't h ve to plan anything. But for th t to happen I'd need a b yfriend to plan it, and that's l oking more and more doubtful with ach passing year. My hairline has st adily been receding since I was 25. It's now bout half an inch from gay d ath. Gay death occurs when you no l nger resemble an Abercrombie & Fitch m del -- you are not actually d ad, but you might as well be. Wh le gay death is directly correlated to age ( very gay man over 40 is t chnically dead) some gays were born d ad. You might be suffering from gay d ath if you: Have a waistline ver 32 inches. Can go online without b ing solicited for prostitution. Shop at Sears. Haven't n eded a haircut since the 70s. Remember the 70s. Th s is not an exhaustive list. If you th nk you may be suffering from gay d ath, please visit the nearest Jenny Cr ig or Hair Club for Men. No one b sides a trained specialist or any 19 y ar old twink can accurately diagnosis gay d ath. The only cure for gay d ath is actual death. But if I am p rtnered when I die, I think my p rtner should assume some of this r sponsibility. After all, a tacky funeral r flects poorly on him - this is the guy you sp nt the last forty years of y ur life with? So I think I'll l ave some details open at this p int, like hair, make-up, party favors, s lection of a Cher impersonator (or Ch r herself, sans toilet scrubber). Relationships are all bout compromise. I'm not looking forward to d ath, and if I could live f rever, I would. I'm fascinated by too m ny unanswerable mysteries of life, like wh t's the sound of one hand cl pping, and how in the world did M chael Jackson procreate. But if all th se people are going to get t gether to celebrate my life one d y, I want them to enjoy th mselves. Your funeral is the last m mory people have of you. It's y ur last chance to make a g od impression. I've spent my whole l fe building up a reputation as a g od host. Why spoil it just b fore the finish line?
The article Dying For a Vacation was Submitted by Jonah Haslap through Articles.GetACoder.com network. Here's the additional information: Fourth-generation hypochondriac. Ambivalent Miss Piggy f n. Reluctant lawyer. Purebred Jew.
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