this week, when we thought i was dying, my friend wrote some epitaphs for me. we were only half-joking about it, because we suddenly realized, well, if one of us dies, the other one's going to be taking care of the funeral stuff. because what else are friends for?

anyway. epitaphs. some of them are hilarious, others are a little flat. not everyone can be funny all the fucking time, you know. so just remember, i didn't write these.

one. my friend went to the afterlife, and all she got was this lousy epitaph.
two. i told her not to go to mardi gras.
three. a stark reminder of the dangers of paper jams. [single-ply toilet paper] i don't get it either.
four. i said three parts saltpeter, five parts charcoal.
five. we are comforted to know that you were unconscious at the time.
six. never chamber the first round.
seven. while you may not reach heaven, you're probably too lazy to find the way to hell.
eight. you were always bound for hell, but you never could navigate.
nine. i'll see you real soon.
ten. oh teh noez!1~ t3h m13 l13f hsa be3n sltol3d!!1omgwtf??!1one!
eleven. the blender is not to be used for the other use.
twelve. she died in her sleep but still had a closed casket.
thirteen. warning: experiment in necromancy.
fourteen. if you can read this, you're six feet above a rotting carcass.
fifteen. a lazy, fat, horny, bisexual, pill-popping, hypocritical, pathological liar who will be missed more sorely and remembered more fondly than any saint. i don't know what he'd do without me. ♥
sixteen. we wanted to cremate you, but you took care of that for us.
seventeen. she loved life, but she loved whiskey just a little more.
eighteen. her death is a reason to seek heaven. like i said.
nineteen. dexterity check: botch. luck check: failed.
twenty. 0wnt, but nevar pwn3d.
twenty-one. 0wn3d.
twenty-two. if you even think of fucking on my grave, i will own you in the hereafter.
twenty-three. she finally sat the fuck down.
twenty-four.. no more alarm clock.
twenty-five. omfgwtfhnmjklolhi2u!
twenty-six. there's a reason her casket is lined with steel.
twenty-seven. she was more careful knowing i'd write her epitaph.

yeah. someone, apparently will miss me.

song: "without you feels" - seven mary three