Speaking of obituaries. The story behind my morbid birthday present. (kinda long-ish)

If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm nuts about my little, redneck, backward-ass hometown. My family has farmed the same ground there for over 150 years. I'm homesick a lot. Especially in the fall and spring.

I've made sure there are ample funds for my final expenses to fly my dead ass home so that I can be buried in the same cemetery as the rest of my family and not end up stuck for all eternity in this moldy swamp.

Anyway, around the time my son was born, I was thinking about and planning for such things and one day I stopped by the cemetery and asked the sexton how urgent it was that I buy plots.

He said there was enough capacity to last at least 100 years. Thus assured, I put it out of my mind.

However, a year or so ago, I saw an article in the paper that spoke about the quickly dwindling cemetery space and the need to start a brand new one on the outskirts of town.

Holy shnikeys! I was upset! I want to be buried with my family and I want to be buried in the cemetery next to the high school football field! That way I can climb out of my grave on chilly fall Fridays and listen to the games.

So when I opened my birthday card from my wife, I was thrilled to find that she had purchased two of the remaining plots in my cemetery of choice!

Really weird, huh? Well, I thought it was awesome! In fact, she gave me the gift early so that when I went to Illinois last week, I could go check out the plots myself. Which I did. I grabbed the owner of the funeral home (a guy I've known all my life) and took him to the cemetery and we showed my where I'm going to be buried.

And I made him take pics to show my wife!

Sweet crap,

So I'm driving home from work tonight, and I'm waiting at a stoplight. I have been thinking about the half-eaten cupcakes I have in a box next to me on the passenger seat, so I figure while I'm waiting, I'm gonna sneak a taste.

I take out the strawberry balsamic peppercorn, lick the frosting a couple of times, then lick off the frosting that got on my fingers.

Then I hear some dude say "That looks pretty good."

I look over, and apparadoy the dude in the car next to me has been watching me tongue this thing.

Yeah.

Next up for me? Hitching my wagon to some tubby profane right-wing Squawk. :'(

Dear gigantic red spider in my shower this morning:

I know you and your hundreds of cousins help keep the other bugs from overrunning my apartment, and for this I thank you.

Given your toils, I apologize for foregoing the usual "upside down glass/sheet of paper" trap-and-release method, and instead splashing you down the drain. The quarters in said shower were just too cramped, and I couldn't be certain that your gross, furry legs would not touch my hand. Wherever you are, I hope you survived and are currently pwning some six-legged pest.

Cheers

P.S. Thank you for not crawling back up the drain and biting the tihs out of my feet.

Dear dude who offed himself by throwing himself in front of a blue line car today at rush hour,

I'm not quite sure what your problems were in life, but judging by the big eff you that you gave to several hundred people trying to get home on a Friday night, it was probably some problems with friends. Because you sure didn't make any tonight with your antics. In your next life, if you feel compelled to do something like that, try something less public and messy. I'm sure the dozens of people going to O'Hare, of which I was supposed to be one before my flight was delayed, would really appreciate it. Sorry bout ya

regardless of who gets in

power will go to their heads and we all might as well bend over because they are gonna ream us so bad.

I'm through with politics. Mainly because of what the hell it does to everyone. It divides people.

So make sure you are wearing clean underwear when they strip you down and start screwing us all