Also, she says everyone should be sure to donate their organs when they die, please.

Will do! But I don't think mine will be very useful, what with my weird blood type and all. Woo for being a universal receiver, boo for no one else being able to take my stuff.

Funny you should mention that, Jars. S is a universal receiver.

Just think of the weird person you might save, Jars...

I wonder about preserving organs. Is there any attempt to advance this at all? It would seem like Jars' innards should be preserved -- some weird person would need them eventually.

Oh, all my favorite hymns. And carols (even if its not Christmas. I really hope its not Christmas, actually)

I like how now it looks like Trudy thinks S is very weird...

::snuggles S::

::glares sternly at her untrustworthy innards::

Edit: S is weird! Very very weird! Just look who she's dating! t runs like hell

Shall we fling ourselves on your casket after it's been lowered into the ground?

"Hold off the earth a while so I may take her once more into my arms!"

We'll all be Laertes.

I was thinking more soap-opera-drama-queen rather than Actual Theatre(TM).

Shall we fling ourselves on your casket after it's been lowered into the ground?

This is exactly what I was about to type. Scary.

Great minds.

Does anyone else have songs picked out? Or am I the only morbid one?

R.E.M.'s "Shiny Happy People." Just to confuse people.

The Velvet Underground's "Sister Ray."

Robyn Hitchcock's "Where Do You Go When You Die?"

I was thinking AC/DC's "Highway to Hell," Violent Femmes' "Kiss Off," and "Leaving on a Jet Plane," performed by any lounge lizard.

(Okay, no. I don't care what music is played at my funeral, b/c it's for the loved ones, not for me. I won't be there. They can pick.)

Being an odd type just means that there other odd types out there desperate for your organs. Sadly, they won't take mine anymore.

Ginger, you'd be surprised at what you can still donate -- bone and tendons, for example.

Yeah, that 's right. I'm pretty sure corneas are okay too, since they don't really have a blood supply. I guess I'll just leave it up to the med school.

eta: I sent you a strange e-mail to explain a strange package, Teppy.

(Okay, no. I don't care what music is played at my funeral, b/c it's for the loved ones, not for me. I won't be there. They can pick.)

I figure I'll pick and if they just can't stand it they can change things and I won't haunt them.

Well, not for that.

My Father wants to be cremated and raked into a particular sandtrap he could never get out of. We've all said "uh, okay".