I started writing a book of some sort?!? I’m not sure what to call it. It’s like a memoir/ non-fiction guide book for funerals. LMAO Who does that? I guess my sick ass does. I have been to so many funerals in my 25 years of living. I vowed in 2011 I wouldn’t go to anymore. Then my mom died in 2012 and when my dad dies then I guess I’ll have to go to that one. However, I can’t go to anymore relative/non-relative funerals. Shit gets real at funerals. I’ve decided to come up with a few rules. I’ll probably post more within the next few months, but so far this is what I have.
NEVER RIDE IN THE LIMO
That damn limo ride. It might be worse than the actual service. Its like a big family confessional. Sex, lies, and all kinds of stories have been told inside the “family limo”. If you want to find something out then ride in the limo! You might be pleasantly surprised or pissed off.
The last time I was suppose to ride in the family limo I couldn’t. My brother and cousin had to bring their son’s and with that came car seats. Which meant my sister and I wouldn’t be able to ride because the runts and their runt seats took ours! Luckily my sister drover so we rode together.
Well, some idiot didn’t confirm with the drivers for a drop off to out family house after the festivities. So you can guess what happened next! All those people in the limo got dropped off at the church, ride-less. Talk about comedy, I was rolling, but the kicker was on the way to the burial site someone got kicked out of the limo because they tried to smoke some weed. WTF you F***ing idiot! This is why I say humor is all around us, especially during funerals.
If You Have Nothing Nice to Say, Sit in the Last Pew
I will never forget the time my mother, sister, cousin, and I almost got kicked out the service. Why? Because my lovely mother was walking a load of mess with her two minions co-signing. Just imagine hearing “Yeah Yeah, he was mean as hell.” “ Nobody really liked him” “ Hmm DNA tests can prove you wrong” Talking about laughing my ass off. I must’ve hushed, laughed, fell, and cried from the humor. Now some of the things she was saying were true, but the rest were on called for. On top of that the professional mourner of the mortuary kept looking back at us and asking us to shush. She didn’t even know him which gave her no right to shush us. You’re probably asking how do I know she’s a professional mourner. Did I ask her? No I asked my family who she was. We’d had a few services at this mortuary and she’s always there. Sitting in the same place, with the same fake cry. It beats prostituting. This was honestly one of the most funny funerals I’d ever attended. That wasn’t even the worst part. My male and female cousin decided to speak during the services.
My male cousin got up first. Why do we allow dumb shit to occur? We all knew he was about to say something ignorant, but we didn’t expect this. He started off saying we need to come together more often instead of when death happens. Which I somewhat agreed with. Then this fools starts saying we need to come together like tigers in the jungle. Our cubs need to play together. Because we are tigers. He kept making tiger references like the deceased was a tiger tamer or cat owner. Which he was neither of. WHOA I had no clue what kind of high he was on, but apparently we missed that flight. Bless my cousin, but he might be a little touched.
Next up was my female cousin. She said something sweet, kind, and straight to the point. Just when I was about to clap she burst into the one and only songs people know how to sing at a funeral, “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye”. It was so hard for me not to cry when she made my ears bleed. I didn’t know ONE person was capable of singing bass, alto, and soprano at once. I couldn’t believe this monstrosity was taking place so I just started zoning out and staring at the plastic gnomes and deer. Yes, the mortuary has plastic gnomes and deer. It’s nice scenery, something out of Snow White. Well, when I came back from my trance the laughter from my pew continued and got louder.
Somehow between all of that nonsense the cousin sitting with us reaches in her large breasts and pulls her phone out. Not only does she answer a call, but she loudly whispers to the person what just happened. Embarrassed wasn’t and still isn’t the best word to use to describe how I felt. All you can do at that point is take part in the buffoonery. Like the title says if you have nothing nice to say, sit in the last pew or furthest away from the family.
Volun-WHAT? How Did My Name End Up in The Obituary
Have you ever sat there minding your business then open the obituary and see your name signed up for something? Okay, neither have I, but my brother has. Talk about funny, that was unremarkably funny. Not only did they volunteer my brother to be a pallbearer, but because he was late, like super late, they recruited my ex-brother-in-law. Ha that dirty monkey mouthed bastard was good for something. They gave him the white gloves and even had him sit closer to the front. When my slow poke brother finally did and we showed him his name, he hollered. I think people assumed it was out of grief, UH NO!
For some strange reason, people might not make it to do their part during the service like read the eulogy or sing. Its rare, but I’ve seen it happen twice. So then it’s the volunteers. Here’s my thing:
A. If you can’t read don’t volunteer.
B. If you can’t sing don’t volunteer.
C. Don’t let other members volunteer you.
Singing off key is automatic entry into my highlight reel. Mispronouncing simple words or worse the persons name is automatic entry into my highlight reel. Reading is fundamental. If necessary pre-read the eulogy before you stand, speak, and make a fool of yourself.
-Mary Joseph Jr.