Bridget's Blog
Death and Saxes
I've been to a number of funerals lately and I have decided, because of the unpredictable hodgepodge of family and friends who would attend, that I want a stranger to eulogize me when I go. I don't want wild tales told about leaving my coffee on the roof of my car so often that when a car honks at me I coolly open the sunroof & reach around for the mug. Or that I say "excuse me" to dogs if I cut in front of them, or when I was 17 my panties got caught in the jeans I was trying on & after a determined struggle I hung them BOTH back up on the rack & went home commando. I want someone to describe a cold, pragmatic and efficient woman: I am the human equivalent of a whirligig.
My father had his own unconventional plans for a funeral. BEFORE he died, or had even taken ill, he had hoped we would host an Irish Wake for him in a pub.His plan was to lie there peacefully as live music played softly in the background, his eyes closed, while mourners, gripping the odd pint of Guinesses, passed by; complimenting him on his lifelike appearance, how good he looked. "Then", he said "when I really go, just stick a bone up my ass and let the dogs carry me off." Ever since I was a teenager, I have had an appreciation for the ridiculous, mostly that which pertained to my large family but I never spare myself. I used these (unfortunately true) adventures in my "Maid for Murder" series and of course in my facebook account bridgetallison2. After posting anecdotes from my life for over a year, and the constant barrage of distressed comments I receive when I skip a daily post, I've been convinced to take up blogging, bearing in mind that I have no idea what I am doing yet.
My father had his own unconventional plans for a funeral. BEFORE he died, or had even taken ill, he had hoped we would host an Irish Wake for him in a pub. His plan was to lie there peacefully as live music played softly in the background, his eyes closed, while mourners, gripping the odd pint of Guinesses, passed by; complimenting him on his lifelike appearance, how good he looked. "Then, he said "when I really go, just stick a bone up my ass and let the dogs carry me off."
I trust you'll stick with me while I stumble through life and and enjoy my foibles as much as I do! My twitter account is @foralark, my facebook is bridgetallison2. Join me and hopefully I can add some humour to your day or at least a fresh perspective on just about everything.
I've been to a number of funerals lately and I have decided, because of the unpredictable hodgepodge of family and friends who would attend, that I want a stranger to eulogize me when I go. I don't want wild tales told about leaving my coffee on the roof of my car so often that when a car honks at me I coolly open the sunroof & reach around for the mug. Or that I say "excuse me" to dogs if I cut in front of them, or when I was 17 my panties got caught in the jeans I was trying on & after a determined struggle I hung them BOTH back up on the rack & went home commando. I want someone to describe a cold, pragmatic and efficient woman: I am the human equivalent of a whirligig.
My father had his own unconventional plans for a funeral. BEFORE he died, or had even taken ill, he had hoped we would host an Irish Wake for him in a pub.His plan was to lie there peacefully as live music played softly in the background, his eyes closed, while mourners, gripping the odd pint of Guinesses, passed by; complimenting him on his lifelike appearance, how good he looked. "Then", he said "when I really go, just stick a bone up my ass and let the dogs carry me off." Ever since I was a teenager, I have had an appreciation for the ridiculous, mostly that which pertained to my large family but I never spare myself. I used these (unfortunately true) adventures in my "Maid for Murder" series and of course in my facebook account bridgetallison2. After posting anecdotes from my life for over a year, and the constant barrage of distressed comments I receive when I skip a daily post, I've been convinced to take up blogging, bearing in mind that I have no idea what I am doing yet.
My father had his own unconventional plans for a funeral. BEFORE he died, or had even taken ill, he had hoped we would host an Irish Wake for him in a pub. His plan was to lie there peacefully as live music played softly in the background, his eyes closed, while mourners, gripping the odd pint of Guinesses, passed by; complimenting him on his lifelike appearance, how good he looked. "Then, he said "when I really go, just stick a bone up my ass and let the dogs carry me off."
I trust you'll stick with me while I stumble through life and and enjoy my foibles as much as I do! My twitter account is @foralark, my facebook is bridgetallison2. Join me and hopefully I can add some humour to your day or at least a fresh perspective on just about everything.
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