Thursday, February 6, 2014

How To Make Sure You Will Not Be Embarrassed After You Die.

Anyone who knows me is aware of the fact that I think about death quite a bit. Sometimes it gets to the point where I won't leave the house for an entire day for I will think to myself,  "Hey Candice, you know if you go out today, there's a possibility that you may die." I understand it's a little much but fact of the matter is, it's true. Yes of course I could croak in my apartment by perhaps choking on a baby carrot or somehow accidentally eating hair dye, but walking around Los Angeles is certainly more likely. On an average day I come close to being hit by a car at least twice because as I believe the case to be, LA drivers have this superhuman power where they can actually see through pedestrians. Either that or if they do see our kind, their brains don't quite register right away what this object is moving before them since it is not in the shape of a vehicle. Leisurely strolls are something to be found in dreams as I am always to be on a high alert while walking. I'm aware of the obvious fact that my death will occur at some point and there's nothing I can do about it. What perturbs the control freak of a woman I am is that I don't know when this event will take place. And there are many little things that could be overlooked; Loose ends that you don't tend to which may leave you with a bit of a strange reputation if they are to be noticed without explanation. I would prefer to have things in place before I were to leave this world in order to facilitate my need to maintain a good name. Let's say I were to be expecting company, my home would be tidy without the usual hot pink bra on the couch or all the glitter in the kitchen sink from making my boyfriend gifts coated in 8 layers of sparkle madness (poor guy). The house would smell like a giant Citrus Tango Yankee candle as opposed to it's recent putrid microwaved bacon aroma that my roommate is ever-so keen on. I would like it if there were a way to take the same approach when it comes to how my body were to be found once it decides it's going to expire. For all I know, I could die in my sleep wearing a Jem and the Holograms shirt and bicycle shorts with a massive poof for hair on my head. I have no idea and it will forever weigh on my mind. Hence why if I am to leave the house, there's no way I would do so wearing a pair of sneakers and sweat pants with vainglorious claims such as "#1 Princess of the World" printed on them.  The day I do that is the day a Prius mistakes me for a car lane and runs me down. Understandably. Nevertheless, with that being said, here are some pointers on how to NOT be embarrassed after you have dropped dead:

-Your social media photos should be bangin' because that's what's going to be on the 5 o'clock news. Back in the 90's when someone died, an immediate relative or significant other provided a polaroid of THEIR choice to the media. When I was a teenager, I used to worry that my mother would be the one with this responsibility. Which would surely be a photo that she took with her disposable Walgreens camera under fluorescent lighting, with the flash on, where I am doing something unflattering like blowing out birthday candles or speaking. The most unpleasant photographs are those taken in mid-sentence where someone is saying "Don't take a picture of me!" My mother has albums filled with images like this. Why? Because she doesn't give proper advisory that she is about to take a photo. The woman is constantly holding a camera. If you know anyone who has peculiar pictures of you in their possession, you should seek them out and have them destroyed. If this person puts up a fight by saying "You look nice there. What are you talking about?" Do what one of my brother's friends from Queens would do: Kick them in the shin, take a photo of them on the floor screaming while grabbing their now painful shin and say "Oh yea, you look nice there too. You and your douchebag camera." Then go to the 7-11 and eat a Taquito. Only because this is a very post battle victory Guy from Queens thing to do.

-Tell someone really close to you to monitor the mortuary beautician. I know, this is extremely vain and all but if I'm going to be laid out on a display in front of the very same people I spent all my life getting dressed up and perfecting my hair for, there's no way in hell I'm going to go out with bad rouge, mauve lipstick and a velvet dress. I don't know if this comes along with some burial package: Updo, airbrush foundation, ivory casket, velvet dress but I do not want this package. 

-Give someone you trust your Facebook password. You don't want to be dead and still be receiving shitty event invites. Death is a time for peace. Also be completely convinced that this person will be creepy on your behalf. If your trusted Facebook death confidant were to receive a notification of a comment left for you such as "You were a beautiful person, inside and out. You will be missed" they should respond with "Thanks for the comment. See you on the other side." Or "I'm watching you but you can't see me. BOO! Where am I?? LOLOL." They should also like your friend's status updates occasionally and post links to dreadful Buzzfeed articles from your account. That way you are annoying to the living who waste their life on Facebook yet also super eerie.

-Try to not have anything too bizarre hidden in your home. When things are kept locked up or buried that are seemingly zany, it is apparent that you would feel quite mortified if someone were to discover these possessions. This is why they are kept in a sock, in a box, with a lock, in a drawer, down a tunnel, underground and not on a bookshelf. If foul play were to be found in my case, I suspect a proper inspection of my apartment were to be necessary. Which is to my dismay because as an extremely private person, knowing that some forensics dude will be rummaging through my belongings way back in the depths of my closet irks me to no end. There you will find a blow up doll still blown up wearing a White Castle tee shirt, a yellow space suit, an eye patch, packets of lube I've collected from 3 years worth of Santa Monica Blvd parades and my JOURNAL where all my mushy sappiness is revealed without limits. Horrifying. We all have strange objects in our home. Sometimes they happen to be strange objects that also function as a sex toy. I don't have sex toys for a reason. Reason being if I were to have one, it would have to be the stupidest toy on the market. And I would go ahead and leave it out on the coffee table to give the apartment a flair of sexy oomph. Yet, no one does this in real life so if you are feeling a cold come on, quickly grab your dumbest vibrator that is in the shape of something like a hippo (they make those) and throw it down an incinerator, pronto. 

-Don't do anything too dumb in your life now that could be revealed after you die. You don't want to be dead and with absolutely no way to clarify your point of view. Just be careful. If you're into having sex with things you're not supposed to have sex with, don't have sex with things you're not supposed to have sex with because that’s weird. And when you're dead you'll be that dead weird guy so just be normal, k?

-If you are going to leave the house to pick up some stuff, make sure you're not only picking up one thing. I do this thing where I leave the house to buy a banana. Everyday. I know I could realistically go out one day and buy something like 16 bananas but for some reason I don't. If I went out to do this daily routine and got ran over by a bus on my way, word would get out and that would be it. I would ultimately be, “The Girl Who Got Ran Over By a Bus On Her Way To Buy 1 Banana” for eternity. Have it so that before you leave the house you have a sufficient amount of errands to run. Getting killed on the way to work is one thing, but getting killed on the way back from picking up your fluff and fold laundry from the fluff and fold laundry place is not a heroic feat. And then everyone will know you were a schmuck who never learned how to wash your own clothes.

-Delete everything incriminating on your computer or phone. Your Apple products are the first things to be checked if your death is suspicious. You know how nervous you feel when you think your girlfriend or boyfriend might be looking through your text messages when you put your phone down for 4 whole minutes? Ok, reality is, that is going to happen if you drop dead within those 4 minutes. They will call an ambulance but probably after they went through your Google search history, emails, text messages, photos, Instagram likes and Facebook messages. Also searching through what was once your private internet life will be a team of detectives who will relay the things you didn't want your girlfriend or boyfriend to see that they may have overlooked while kind of being upset over the fact that you're dead. So those super kinky texts you had with that one person a year ago that you still keep in your phone, delete them. DO NOT I repeat, DO NOT back them up to iTunes! iTunes is not a part of the afterlife. And thank God since that means we won't have to endure anymore horrific dance song remixed versions of a former yet even more horrific dance song hereafter.

That's my list of stuff to do to in order to be remembered as a beautiful person and not a creepazoid. By writing this, I have had thought about death for the entire day. Now I must delete my search history that I’ve accumulated in order to prove to myself that there are indeed hippo shaped vibrators just in case I explode later today by lighting incense too close to my highly flammable hair product ridden head. Which is the likelihood of my demise from this life after all.