Swear to TPTB, I could have written Paul's post on his Rocking Funeral plans (Not to denigrate the post...could have written the subject matter, not the excellent/unique take on it). I've thought often about our weird customs since attending my Uncle's military funeral last weekend. It was a perfect expression of Cal, just as Mom's was for her. So...what's mine?
Between seeing my friend Suzanne Lyon's excellent/poignant hootenanny film about middle-age love and the funeral business Undertaking Betty last week at the Crest (yes Naomi Watts is that incandescent in person...I'm girl-crushing) and re-viewing Eddie Izzard's DVD comedy routine about wanting his casket flung at a tree to give his guests one more laugh, I'm thinking:
my funeral = GO BIG OR GO HOME.
It's Spock ears, pirate talk and the Time Warp for my memorial revelers. Start growing your brass balls now or you can't come and get the awesome goodie bag. I'll be damned if the last party I throw isn't the best one ever. Arrrrrgh.