Don’t prop me up beside no stinking jukebox

As I was listening to Owner of a Lonely Heart by Yes earlier today, I got to thinking about how I’d like for that song to be played at my funeral.

Well, I guess I wouldn’t like it that much. I mean, I’d be dead. And everything.

Then that got me thinking about funerals.

You know how people always say, “When I die, I don’t want anyone to be sad. I don’t want a funeral, I just want everyone to have a freakin’ PARTY!”

Well, you know what?

When I die?

I WANT PEOPLE TO BE SAD, DAMN IT.

I want my friends and family to bawl their freaking eyes out. You know, the ugly cry. Punctuated with howls and snot bubbles. I’m talking totally devastated, can’t-live-their-lives-any-longer-without-the-sheer-awesomeness-that-was-LRC, suicidal states of mind.

Well, maybe not suicidal.

But would a little moderate to severe depression be too much to ask?

I didn’t think so.

When I die?

YOU BETTER NOT THROW ANY FUCKING PARTIES.

I MEAN IT.

YOU BETTER CRY, GOD DAMN YOU.

MOURN THIS GREAT LOSS, MOTHERFUCKER. SHOW SOME RESPECT FOR THE DEAD AND PUT DOWN THAT MILLER LITE.

Unless you’re drinking your sorrows away.*

Then that’s okay.

Does this make me a bad person?

Obviously not, because there’s gonna be a lot of sad, crying faces at my funeral.

And you don’t cry for someone who’s a bad person.

You just don’t.

*which is what I do every weekend

The letter

Well, something good did come out of being pursued by BrownEyes’s friend. After he texted me like a billion times the next day, I decided to just be honest with him and tell him I was having trouble getting over a guy who’d, apparently, recently decided that he’d rather not have me in his life. It was then that he admitted to me that he’d been recently dumped, too, and since then we have formed a quasi-friendship in which we cheer the other on in our respective Efforts At Finding Happiness.

So I’d call that a mini-success. It’s nice to be able to text him at a particularly weak moment and have him reply with something encouraging, and vice versa.

BrownEyes apparently didn’t “get” that I was dipping out on his ass again, and has been blowing up my phone. I’ve only answered once (out of the 8 or so times he’s called), yesterday, just to tell him I was still at work and I would call him later, to buy myself some time to figure out how I was going to break the news to him that he was being dismissed. I came home and wrote out some talking points because when I have to confront someone I get flustered and forget what I was going to say.

Also, despite not being the sharpest tool in the shed, BE has a gift of Conversation Manipulation. He could probably talk a telemarketer into buying HIS shit instead.

Come to think of it, that’s probably why I stayed around as long as I did. Because he convinced me I was having a great time when in actuality I was miserable.

Anyhoots, so I called him back once I was ready to have what would ideally become my final conversation with him before I could talk myself out of it, and this time, HE didn’t answer.

So I plugged my phone up into my charger and began writing some more.

Only this time, it was a letter to New York.

Previously that day, I’d drafted an e-mail that I was going to send to him. Remember how I said there’d been some new developments with our situation that was kinda throwing a monkeywrench into the whole thing? Well, I was going to let him know, through this e-mail, how I felt. While NY and I had loads of fun together, we’d never quite gotten to the emotional level that is so vital in successful relationships. I poured my heart into it while making sure not to sound desperate or vulnerable. I let him know that it was not okay that he was avoiding me (save for the occasional “hope you’re doing well”-esque text he’d send me) but told him if he was having personal issues I was there if he needed me, and not there if he didn’t. I attempted to express that I wanted to salvage what we could of a friendship before he just wrote me off altogether.

I didn’t include that sentiment in the letter in false hope that he’d come crawling back to me to say YES OH LET’S HAVE A RELATIONSHIP INSTEAD AND WE CAN NAME OUR FIRST CHILD DEREK BUT ONLY IF IT’S A BOY AND THEN WE CAN BUY A FORD FOCUS AND OPEN A RETIREMENT ACCOUNT. I honestly DO want to remain friends with him. We have way too much fun with each other to waste a perfectly good friendship on account of his commitment-phobia.

So I concluded the letter stating that if I didn’t hear back from him I’d be hurt, but I would get over it eventually. And also that I couldn’t take not knowing if it was [issue NY told me he currently was having] or the fact that he just didn’t ever want to speak to me again that was causing him to avoid me.

I sent it to several friends, detailing the situation and asking their opinion on it (and thank you SO MUCH to those who gave their input. Heart. You.). One person told me it’d be more personal if I hand-wrote it, and I had to agree.

So after my failed attempt at calling BE from home, I printed out the e-mail and began to write it, almost verbatim, on some leftover wide ruled notebook paper from my college days. It ended up being two pages exactly, with ample spacing and non-threatening penmanship. I folded it up and placed it in an envelope with only NY’s first name on the outside of it.

It was a masterpiece.

I constructed the letter so that anyone who did NOT respond to it had to be the biggest asshole jerkface on planet Earth.

I delivered the letter at approximately 7:30 p.m. in NY’s mailbox and sent him a text that I’d left a note for him there.

I still haven’t heard back from him at 4:45 p.m. the following day.

And if he doesn’t respond? Well then.

Good.

Fucking.

Riddance.

Suck on THAT

I’m back from vacay. Which was GREAT. Thanks for asking!

And now that I’m back?

NY’s house keys?

In his mailbox.

And he can go and fuck himself.

Multiple times.

Aren’t you glad I’m back?

I’d love to see my Google Analytics after this one

Topics of discussion on gchat with Andy today:

• Steve Jobs
• The Dark Knight
• Blue balls vs. pooping in terms of importance (not as in, which should I take care of first—no, no. We discussed which was more newsworthy)
• Trans fats
• Jennifer Aniston
• Naked teens
• Robot sex
• Throwing away Christmas gifts from relatives
• PMS/Bloating
• Wagering on someone’s death (Andy’s co-workers actually do this)
• The abstract nature of happiness and love and how our perspective distorts our hopes for both
• Pooping in the river
• Purses made out of cat fur
• Medicaid reimbursement rates for rural hospitals
• E-Penis
• Dog farts
• Analog to digital conversion
• What does Edward do when Bella is on the rag (Related topic: Oxygen content of period blood)
• Actual topics of relevancy

OK, that last one was a lie.

We clearly have too much time on our hands. Although, we did manage to cover a myriad of topics in a relatively short period of time. You know what that means—we got SKILLS.

Either that, or we’re slightly retarded.