At least give me spirit fingers
Yesterday, my husband and I spent time speaking with a lawyer. Relax…we are not pulling a Jon and Kate and filing for divorce through public scrutiny; though as a side note, I’m totally team Kate. We were being rational, responsible adults and drawing up our Last Will and Testament. Nothing boasts a good time like hashing out how you want to be buried and whether or not you give your loved ones permission to pull the plug.
First I’d like to discuss the name of this document; Last Will and Testament.
I think it’s a horrible title for this document. It’s been called this since the end of time, I get it, but it sucks as a name. Here’s what I imagine when I hear about someone’s Last will. Stuffy old men, decked out in suits, sitting at the end of a long table with their glasses pulled down on their noses declaring your entire life was worth a measly 5 bucks.
Why couldn’t we decide to title the document something that conjures up more pleasant images? How about we rename it to something more uplifting like “Down under dance party”. Or for the country music lover in you, “Boot scooting for eternity”. We could even go more gothic and try out “The hand of destiny”. We could pay tribute to Metallica and name it “Fade to Black”. No? Listen Lady, at least give me some freaking spirit fingers when you say it!
We laid out our plans for how we’d like to be buried and who should be granted custody of our daughter. Do you think it’s implied that whoever gets the kid also gets the cat too? We also decided that if we both keel at the same time and our daughter inherits our money then she can’t access any of it till she’s 25. My husband thinks this will teach her that she needs to get an education and learn how to work and be responsible before she cashes in on us. Tell her what she’s won Johnny!!!!
Here it is kid…your life hasn’t already been hard enough by losing your parents, but ribbed for your pleasure we’re going to throw in the extra nugget that you have to be a responsible adult before you ever gain anything from the two of us having a dance party 6 feet under.
I think he’s delusional. Not in the whole teaching her responsibility jazz, but rather in the whole, thinking we’d have any money left over after all our debt is paid off.
Surprisingly though, the two of us are fairly in sync in how we’d like to be buried, who gets our kid, and whether or not to pull the plug. If you are interested, the answer is NO. We left the lawyers office feeling uplifted and cheery.
I vote for Down Under Dance Party