Can I Have Your Watch When You Are Dead?

On gloomy February days like this one, my thoughts turn, like Gorey's probably did, to the events of my funeral. Mind you, this is far from morbid and once I explain just what I want, you'll understand.

I've got a list an arm's length long somewhere of all the songs I want to have played, but this post of Fraction's on Flickr reminded me of one of them and since my family and friends will obviously be so grief stricken as to forget my true wishes and will instead opt for the "Beaches" soundtrack, minus the upbeat numbers, played at some dreary locale so I'm relying on you, Dan Evans' mother-in-law, to make sure the following things get done. Thanks in advance.

1. So I'm Dead. Let's Party!
No morbid funeral home for THIS girl. Book Duff's restaurant, especially the bar part of the restaurant, and invite everyone there. Ask Jimmy and Karen (the head chef and co-owner, respectively) to make black bean ravioli and creole eggs benedict, extra sauce, for everyone. Bloody Marys, Greyhounds, and champagne for all until everyone's roaring toasted.

2. Critical: Foam Fingers
I've long promised that there will be foam fingers at my funeral that read "Amy Was #1" because who couldn't use a little whimsy at a time like this? Plus, foam fingers really are the most under-appreciated of the foam products. Nerf schmerf. Cheers may be also be created.

3. Serious: Ditties
I'm not in the mood for a pack of dreary dirges after I've moved along. Let's focus on the fun! There's plenty of time for everyone to hum "Danny Boy", this party's got to have it's share of bouncy 80s and 90s tracks like "Ice, Ice Baby" and "The Goonies R Good Enough". Subtle reminders like Rockwell's "Somebody's Watchin' Me" are encouraged. Your son-in-law should have some good ideas.

4. Fair: Kleenex
Assuming my mother's still around when this event occurs, she's not going to go for all this hootenanny. So, keep her appeased with her share of tissues and shoulders. She cries at Jell-o commercials so you best be warned that no amount of Sir Mix-A-Lot is going to rouse her to dance on the bar. (Oh, yeah. Dancing on the bar around my urn is definitely okay with me, if it's okay with Karen.) Also, when someone inevitably makes a photo montage as they are apt to do these days, please make sure the photo of me with the hideous Annie-style perm and the embroidered duck sweater doesn't make it on there. Seriously. Fair is fair and that photo is so unfair that I will probably come back to haunt someone over it. Let's not have that weighing on your conscience. And most photos from high school should only be used as warnings to the youth in attendance - lower lid eyeliner isn't your daily friend. It should be treated warily and used only when going for a smoky eye.

5. Good: You've Got To Urn It.
Speaking of that urn, I've read Stiff and would like to be donated to science. What the heck, right? At least some use will come of my dead weight. After that, ashes to ashes, pop me in some urn, and after the party, get me down to Jake's in Jamaica and have Sally Henzell build me into some building by the ocean. That'll be nice a nice way to end the party - a long, tropical island vacation. Just what I've always wanted.

So, that's about it, Dan Evans' mother-in-law. Hope this isn't too much trouble for you. Let me know if you need any further advice or if you'd like elaboration on any of these points. Naturally, creativity is encouraged, but the pinata filled with ashes probably isn't a good idea (I know, I've considered it).