YOURE GONNA DIE......!!!!!!

A few days ago, I was reading a post on Facebook, and I saw that somebody who was in my class, was killed in a car crash very recently.

Of course, you cant help but feel sad at that kind of news. Since everything is always about me, all the time....I immediately thought of the day that I go to meet that fierce, black as night, soul sista in the sky.

Ive been to a few funerals in my life...not a ton. Its always the same. Lots of crying. VERY solemn. Everybody's head is bowed, and there are soft murmurs. Words of condolences are offered, and a handful of " he will be truly missed. Such a terrible loss".

Uh....Im gonna go on the record here, and just say...

" SCREW THAT NOISE".

Im holding ALL OF YOU to it.....that if for some reason I kick the bucket sometime soon.....my god.....PLEASE do not allow my services to be this kind of buzz kill mess.

Here are my requirements.

#1. Attire.

Ya, so.....I hate wearing black when its WINTER, because the landscape is depressing enough as it is. If my ridiculously hot body is in the beginning phase of decomposing...thats sad enough for everybody involved. NO BLACK!!!!! Slut red, anything see through, assless chaps, or sequins.

All acceptable.

#2. Pre service cocktail hour.

And by " hour"..... I mean " 3 hours". I want all of you to pile into some sweet, decked out party room. Here is where everyone gets nice and sauced. " Oh, youre a recovering alcoholic? Aw, thats sweet. But Im dead, dip shit....so down that Jagermeister shot, and stop flaunting your newly pristine liver. Its called, "bragging", and NOBODY likes it."

At this point in the evening...I dont even want my name mentioned, yet. Ever hear of a little thing called..." build up". Just shove the alcohol into your puss, and lighten the shit up, for one second. Extra points if a girl fight breaks out, or if there is oral sex performed in a bathroom stall. Even more points if its 2 men, and one or both of them are married.

HOTNESS!!!

Also....no food. Just bowls of Vicodins and Ecstasy tabs.

#3. The service.

I dont need all kinds of god talk because...

- - - I dont believe in him/her

- - - - If there IS in fact some kind of magical old man in the sky keeping score.......please. We all know who's name IS NOT on the " get in ", list. Im pretty sure it reads...

-Hitler

-Anne Coulter

- Kate Gosselin

- Ryan Scott

So, in light of that.....I want the shirtless, 19 year old usher boys to hand out a pair of Halloween costume devil horns to each person as they enter, and are escorted to their seats. I also approve of those twirly ribbons that are used in the Olympics. I dont know...when are they used? Some kind of ribbon gymnastics. I approve those...glow sticks.....and maracas.

#4. Officiation.

Ya....so um.....NO PRIESTS! I have some little nephews who are ADORABLE. I dont need that kind of sexual tension at my send off.

Or do I?

Im not sure about that one. Ill get back to you.

No priests, but I WILL take Kathy Griffin, Chelsea Handler, Sarah Silverman, Joan Rivers, or Lisa Lampenelli.

Some of you can go up there and share some shit, but here is an example of what will make me claw my way back up from the scorching depths of Hell, and hurt some people.

" Oh, Ryan.....( dab a tear....sniffle). Ryan....when you walked in a room, it just lit up! Your energy and happiness, was just infectious to all who were near you and....."

Im gonna stop you right here.

Puke, puke, puke. The only thing infectious about me is the Syphilis.

C'mon people!!! None of that. Talk about my love of drag queens! The fact that if Prince is on....Im gonna dance....no matter where where I am! One time I was at a sex club and pestered a tranny for 45 minutes until she showed me her penis to vagina, vagina!!!! Jesus..Im giving you a lifetime of material to work with!

Stop being so queer, and have a good time!!!

#5. The after party dance party.

Im just gonna say four things......

-Disco and 80's

- rampant drug use ( prescription and street)

- a start time of 9pm, and a finish time of 8am

-more oral sex in the bathroom.

Ok. Im leaving it in your hands. DO NOT disappoint.

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME.....

So......a week and a half until I depart for Atlanta!

My relationship with Boston is a strained one. Its kind of like.........ok.....you know those mornings when you wake up and going to the gym is THE LAST thing you want to do....but you force yourself to do it? While you hate every single second of it, you know its good for you in the end? Yeah.....there you have it. Thats how Boston and I relate to each other.

Id like to say that Boston and I have the type of relationship where it doesnt bother ME, and I dont bother IT. I consistently do my best to keep out of Boston's face, but it keeps sending me people who slam doors in my face, lay on the horn if I pause any longer than 2 seconds when the light turns green, and summers that top off at 99 degrees with 100 humidity, followed by soaking wet mud filled springs....and the winters? Give me a break. If hypothermia is your thing, then book your tickets anywhere from November to April.

But here's the kicker. Boston has been GOOD for me. I moved here two years ago, and when I did...oh my god......if you Googled the word " mess", my hypnotic yet sexually endearing face would pop up. You know how life sometimes just comes up behind you and body slams you into the nearest cement wall....then turns around and laughs as it counts the money it just stole from your wallet? Yah..that was me from about 2002 to 2009. If there was a poor decision to be made....I feel pretty comfortable in telling you to place all your bets on me.

When I met a wonderful man, and had the beginnings of a successful career, and moved into a beautiful home...I went into a panic. Im not struggling? Im not suffering? Im clicking into something other than survival mode? I couldnt deal. I was a fish out of water. I looked at all that SHOULD be making me happy, and all I felt was fear.

But dear reader....I sent my round, gorgeous, bubble butt to the nearest shrink....and allowed myself to grieve my past, feel some compassion for the little boy and young adult that I was, and allow myself to be happy and NOT have it feel like a sinful luxury that will dissipate as soon reality comes crashing back all around me.

My reality? In Boston I found a love that I think I will have until the day I die. And yes....you can place a bet on that. I rediscovered a gift I have, that got all blurry in a past life that was born out of serious trauma. Know what else I found in Boston? I found me a a sassy brunette who so thoughtfully threw me a " RELO-GAY-TION TO AIDS- LANTA" party. Anybody who does shit like that? Im in love. She is one hot bitch, and Im going to miss her terribly. Love to Shannon McLeod, aka...."Toilet Pussy McLoad". Dave and Mary? Please.......who's a cooler, more WONDERFUL couple than you? Oh...Me and Russ? Yes....I guess youre right. Most of all.... I redefined a friendship of 20 years, that like a fine wine.......makes me all warm and fuzzy...and then the next day has me hugging the nearest toilet, begging for mercy.

God, Lisa...IM KIDDING!!!!!

Btw, this is turning very " Wizard Of Oz".....

" Scarecrow...Ill miss you most~!"

Finally.....when I leave this city of Boston, Im also leaving a restaurant. This restaurant in particular is where Russ and I went on out first date. We had our one year anniversary celebration, there. Since that night of our first date, it has become our home. We sit at the bar when we go now....not at a table....and we laugh, and we gossip, and eat and drink, and I have lost countless, drunken hours on those bar stools.......Im SURE making a HUGE ass of myself. While Boston was doling out snow storms, and aggressive drivers, and sour dispositions....it also gave me a whole slew of little gems, inside that very restaurant. Tara, and Andrew...my god. When I think of not having you guys near me, my heart aches. Youre like my pushers, and im a filthy junky needing a fix. A filthy junky with the deadest forehead, this side of Beverly Hills. I love you both, and I think that...just maybe...you guys helped me soften my stance on Boston. Amanda.....Renee.....Michaela....TJ.....BUTTERFLY!!!! Youre the funner, nicer, more pleasant family I never had.

Oh Boston...fine...youre not that bad! I leave a better man, than when I arrived on your frosty, icy streets. Maybe.....those frosty, icy streets that I detest so much are a big reason for that. Damn, I hate irony.

BUT I LOVE ATLANTA!!!! HERE COMES DADDY!!!!!

A TALE OF A GRAVY LADEL.....

I totally stole this, But I think its funny. You will too......because I GOD DAMNED told you to.

John invited his mother over for dinner. During the meal, his mother
couldn't help noticing how handsome John's roommate was. She had long been suspicious of John's sexuality and this only made her more curious. Over the course of the evening, while watching the two men interact, she started to wonder if there was more between John and the roommate than met the eye.
Reading his mom's thoughts, John volunteered, "I know what you must
be thinking, but I assure you, Mike and I are JUST roommates."
About a week later, Mike came to John and said, "Ever since your mother
came to dinner, I've been unable to find the beautiful silver gravy
ladle. You don't suppose she took it, do you?" John said,
"Well, I doubt it, but I'll write her a letter just to be sure."
So he sat down and wrote:

"Dear Mother,
I'm not saying you 'did' take a gravy ladle from my house, and I'm
not saying you 'did not' take a gravy ladle. But the
fact remains that one has been missing ever since you were here for
dinner."
Several days later, John received a letter from his mother which read:

"Dear Son,
I'm not saying that you 'do' sleep with Mike, and I'm not saying
that you 'do not' sleep with Mike. But the fact remains that if he
was sleeping in his own bed, he would have found the gravy ladle
by now.
Love, Mom"