I couldn't help myself. The last blog got me in trouble, this blog will get me in some trouble, but it's in me to write. I don't know anything about form, like when or why, or what I'll write. I don't give a fuck about my audience though. I don't give a fuck about the money, though the last time I did this I made more than enough, even if it were spent on lawyers lmao. But fuck it I'm back at it, this time it's going to be different though. I'm no longer forcing shit and I'm no longer listening to anybody but myself. To sum it up: This is God given and if you believe otherwise, suck my dick.
I planned my funeral. Don't ask me why, I just planned it. It's not that I think I'm dying though my blood pressure might hint otherwise lmao. I don't fear death either, though I do fear handling death. But I planned my funeral, in depth. If one of y'all, and I'm sure there's a few of y'all that will outlive me, remember this. This might sound depressing to y'all but this excites me. I've worked briefly in this industry so I've seen it all. Here's what I want my funeral to be like:
Ideally, I don't want to be worm food, or burnt, fuck fire. I want to be in a crypt. If that shit's too expensive though, just burn me. I don't care how old I am, I want fuckin Hip-Hop, Arcade Fire, Queen, and Selena Gomez to be playing during that funeral ceremony/party/whatever the fuck you want to call it. Nothing in a church either I don't fuck with the church. I'd like a stripper there. She doesn't have to dance, I'd prefer if she was dressed normally but I'd like a stripper there. While everybody crying and shit I'd feel at peace with someone who doesn't know me or give a fuck about me there to alleviate that shitty aura. If I die in the summertime I'll have a dress code: Summer dresses for the chicks and the dudes could just rock a tee and jeans or shorts. No suits I don't care what season. I wish this shit was invite only but I don't think I have control over that.
Whoever is speaking and shit I want them to speak the truth. I don't want to hear that "He was a great man who wouldn't hurt a soul." Truth is I'd hurt a soul, again and again. I want the truth, I don't care if they go up there and say he's a dicksucking faggot, so long as they believed what they said, it's all I care about. Oh and I want NO healthy food to be served at the wake/ceremony. Fries, fried chicken, kool-aid, pizza, chinese food. I want to go in the shittiest casket available, something similar to cardboard. Fuck age, I want to be dressed in a white tee, black jeans, Yankee fitted, and Jordans. Oh and If someone would be so kind to drop a few bottles of Blue Moon, and a few pictures with Savanna Sampson, it would be highly appreciated. Thanks.
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