weddings vs. funerals

Last night at the bar, we got onto the topic of weddings. I've always told my parents that if I ever am to tie the knot (which I most likely will not), I'd prefer to take the money they would have spent on my weddings and go elope in Vegas. For some reason, this notion was received as particularly strange by my friends.

But what did they find even more strange? When I mentioned that while I had no plans for a dream wedding, I do have a dream funeral. I'm not morbid or anything remotely close to that, I just think that having an epic funeral would be not only unprecedented, but totally rad.

At my funeral, I plan to request either an 80's or superhero theme... though I'm still open to suggestions. Canadian tuxedo, possibly? Just one rule: no black clothes allowed. Also, I will have put aside money in my will allowing for an open bar. Instead of telling endearing stories, people will be required to tell a tale relating to my ridiculousness. Here are some examples that may potentially surface:

1. That time I broke my face. Some people know how it really happened, many will never know. No matter which one of the stories you heard, when it comes down to it... it was pretty fuckin' funny.

2. That time I lost that bet and swam in my whites in the Spruce Meadows fountain (and the Palm Springs golf course pond... and the Sacramento Hilton pool... and pretty much every other body of water I came within range of).

3. That time I fell off my horse Oscar while half naked in my spike-covered Louboutin boots when dared to make a homemade episode of "equestrian jackass" on New Year's Eve.

4. That time while moonlighting as a ski racer when, while nightskiing, I ate it because I didn't see a mogul while I was trying to see how fast I could go. Or the time I skiied off that jump straight into a tree. Or that time I fell off the chairlift. Champ.

5. That time I insisted on climbing to the top of the Broadway Bridge in the middle of the night because it seemed like fun... and subsequently brought back every road sign I could carry on the way home. FYI: street signs make excellent apartment decorations.

6. That time I thought riding a dirtbike down the stairs was a great idea. Go big or go home? Not exactly. Quite a few bad decisions have almost been avoided until someone said, "Go big, or go home." Unfortunately, the idiot saying the aforementioned phrase is usually me. (Also see: that time I tried to ride a unicycle down the stairs. Also also see: that time I tried to rollerskate down the stairs.)

7. That time I decided I was going to act like a tourist and insisted on speaking in a British accent. (A bad accent, nonetheless.) Or that other time when I decided to speak only in haiku form.

8. That time I broke any (& potentially every?) rule I could. Or that time when I pulled the dumbest prank known to man... which I inevitably found ridiculously hilarious. So, basically, almost anything relating to my everyday life. (As I recently found my senior yearbook, I'll divulge a few high school examples: turning essays in on red paper for AP English, stringing offices, "borrowing" the hand of the Jesus statue during an impromptu game of frisbee-golf, kidnapping authorities, hallway soccer, changing clocks forward, stealing uniform violation forms, skipping all-school homeroom and all masses by hiding in the darkroom, renaming AP Gov to AP Skip and fulfilling aforementioned nickname, "earthquake drills," COEUR DE JESUS, Mr. Shoe costumes on Halloween, putting "berets" on bushes, dressing up our friend the Jesus statue, giving our friend the Jesus statue ridiculous signs to hold, getting in trouble for getting the Jesus statue on our team... etc... I'm talking to you, Forest Ridge pranksters-in-crime.)

Name of Student: Jackie Fleckenstein

Date & Time of Violation: Everyday

Teacher/Adult: Pretty much all of them / AKA: FUNSUCKERS

(Please indicate violation.)

Uniform: "WHAT UNIFORM?" -- "That's not specified in the handbook." "Like you've ever cracked the spine of the handbook, Fleckenstein."

Dean's Note: "Insubordinate. Look it up in the dictionary." "I know what it means. My picture is next to the definition."

(If you look closely, you will see that the bush pictured above has a face. That's why we gave him a "beret.")

ALSO:

8. That time when I said that really moronic thing. Which leaves a lot of room for those who may have not witnessed my actions, but have encountered me even once... as almost everything that comes out of my mouth is pretty stupid.

Anyway, by now you probably get the picture. But two more things: in addition to the above requirements, the songs played at my wake must be "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" from the Wizard of Oz and "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" by Wham!. Finally, my tombstone will bear the following haiku, describing my life mantra:

Life is not about

winning or losing. It's just

about NOT LOSING!

(The exclamation point is necessary, as are the caps. I mean... as everyone knows, I HATE LOSING!)

I don't think that's too much to ask for.

After all... I've been to a lot of great weddings and parties, but a great funeral?

Top that.