The funeral home meeting went quite swimmingly. Not only was it not a re-enactment of "The Big Lebowski," but we were the first family the intern funeral home director has dealt with, resulting in a hilarious faux pas that put my sister's "heart attack" saying to shame. The cheapest possible cremation package was described by him as the "bare bones" package.
I really liked that guy. When I die I want him to say that to my loved ones.
I had to sign off on the fact that my dad had not recently undergone any type of radiation therapy. This briefly confused me, but then I remembered "Return of the Living Dead" and all was clear. I must confess that part of me wishes he HAD undergone some radiation so that I could lie and then go fight the ensuing plague of zombies.
I would think that nothing could help one get over a loss quite like getting to fight a horde of zombies.
The author lives in Vancouver, Washington, USA with his girlfriend and a menagerie of cats, rats, fish, birds, guinea pigs and robots.
Among other inanities, he strives to use investigative techniques to work young starlet breasts into every aspect of rational discourse -- focusing on the discourse, thus making it not perverted. Also, has recently begun a career as "Internet hairstylist."
He can be contacted via email and Jabber IM at 'firstname.lastname@example.org'. He likes to be contacted.
(All press inquiries, however, ought be directed towards the author's agent, Alistair Hoel, via email to email@example.com.)