Note: Houston's Shea Serrano is an award-winning music writer and goofball whose recent exploits include Bun B's Rap Coloring and Activity Book, and writes this weekly column about his life and times.
Last week, I went to the funeral of a person whom I cared about. While I am of course happy that he will get to spend the rest of eternity in Heaven with the woman that he loved (who was there waiting for him), I am sad for myself and for my family because he is someone we all cared about deeply. This is not a remembrance post, though. My wife, this particular man's granddaughter, wrote one far better than I could ever hope to do. This, my true best friends, is a blueprint.
Flickr/Javier Lopez Zavala See you at tha crossroads...
Here's what I know, and you know, and everyone knows: I'm going to die, you're going to die, we're all going to die. I can only hope that it happens to me while I'm doing something cool like climbing a mountain or participating in a Royal Rumble. More likely is that it happens while I'm making a joke about boners on Twitter.
But when my heart is finally crushed under the weight of a lifetime of tortillas and tamales, I want my funeral to be conducted in a very specific manner. The following 11 things need to happen. This is legal and binding. Please make sure that my lawyer gets it, as my wife is already expressing her unwillingness to honor some of my requests. Thank you.
FOR MY FUNERAL: