|Things You Shouldn't Put Up Your Nose...
||[Apr. 4th, 2007|09:04 am]
(Although the last two were not something I put UP my nose, but simply washed back into my nose due to ill-advised simultaneous bending over while laughing and drinking/eating.)
So, Keith Richards snorted his dad's ashes mixed with blow. Dude, I'm not with you on that one. That's icky. On the other hand, I LOVE that you've told everyone. As someone who also feels compelled to share the stupid things I've done....my brother!
But really, snorting his ashes? I freaked out at my first what-do-you-call-it-when-they-put-your-ashes-in-the-thing-that-looks-like-a-post-office-box. The priest starts waving ashes around, making a cross in the bible and on the door of my grandfather's eternal post office box slot and it's windy and there are ashes flying everywhere including MY NOSE...and I'm on the verge of completely freaking out...I just got GRAMPS up my NOSE and in my hair and...and everyone else is just calmly standing there.
No one told me that those were "dummy" ashes...just wood. Damn. That little bit of information would have saved me some adrenaline.
And then when the STBX's father was cremated in the midwest and sent back here for safekeeping until the memorial service...I got to sign for the package and holler upstairs, "Tim, your Dad's here!" Which was fun.
Not as fun as trying to decide where dear ol' departed Dad would stay...he always wanted to live in our basement apartment, so we thought that would be appropriate, but were having leaky pipe issues, so I couldn't handle the possibility of Dad-Mud. Tim suggested upstairs in the living room and I, despite having a house decorated with skulls and a chunk of deerjaw on my dashboard, refused to have a dead person hanging out in my living space. So we compromised on the Halloween room. (And, to reveal why our split is so amicable and why I remain fond of him, despite it all, he put a skull mask over his Dad's box.)
Although later, after the memorial service, I found a ziplock bag in the STBX's nightstand drawer, which freaked me out a bit. You have no idea how close I came to opening up the bag and giving it a sniff to see what the hell it was.
My mother wants she and my father to be split up into bookends so that my brother and I can each have a matched pair....I have said NO. Although I did find some interesting ways of disposing of ashes when I was researching how to get Tim's Dad BACK to the midwest for the memorial service. There's an artist who will mix your dearly departed's ashes with paint and then paint a portrait of them WITH their ashes. Someone else will submit the ashes to great heat and pressure and make a "gemstone" out of them so that you can wear them around your neck.....
But it doesn't get better than the Australian woman who was so fond of her much older husband that when he died, she had his ashes put into breast implants...so he could be close to her heart...
Ack! Suddenly, Keith Richards is seeming more normal....
Me, if it's still illegal to just chop me a bit and put me on the compost pile...then mix my ashes with concrete and make a reef ball out of me, drop me someplace to help start a new coral reef. If I'm going to be dead, I might as well be useful...