Faces of Death

Yesterday I was talking with my sister-in-law about a recent online debate regarding what to do with a Facebook friend who passes away. Of course my initial reaction was to keep them as a friend - I would never diss a dead Facebook friend!

The only Facebook friends I diss are those who clog my news feed with those farm games. Yes, I know I can just block the status but I refuse to be associated with anyone who spends time playing that shit.

But then she pointed out that you'd get constant reminders to get back in touch, or even worse, poke them. And poking a dead friend is just wrong.

I did a little research and it turns out that it's up to the next of kin to decide what to do with someone's online presence. It's not typically something that's included in a will so it can be somewhat of a sticky subject. Do you really want your husband or wife to have access to your Gmail account? I want Nick to remember me as a loving and devoted wife, not someone who Googled beastiality once. Twice. I just needed to know how to spell it, ok?

This conversation forced me to sit down and give some serious consideration to my own wishes for how I would want Nick to manage my online presence in case I meet an untimely demise. Which naturally led to the bigger picture of the responsibility that would fall on his shoulders if I'm no longer around and I started to panic as I realized that he would be lucky to last a week without the house exploding in a blaze of glory.

Or at least having the electricity shut off, giving our children a serious competitive disadvantage as they fight with the rats over trash can food scraps in the dark.

So in anticipation of an unexpected meeting with my maker, here are 10 things I'd like to put down in writing to put my mind a little more at ease. It probably won't hold any water legally, but I know you all will see to it that my wishes are carried out. Well, you all and DFS.

1. I hope you were kidding last night when I brought up the subject of my funeral and you told me you think funerals are a huge waste of money and plan to dump my body in the river. I want a slideshow. A good one. Don't include any pictures that accentuate my chins or show my cellulite - use Photoshop as necessary. And use good songs - none of that cheesy Michael Bolton or Sarah McLaughlin bullshit. Give me a little bit of street credit, please. I wouldn't be opposed to the idea of hiring a DJ to spin a fat beat.

2. Also for the funeral, I want my friend Carrie to do my hair, make-up, wardrobe and accessories - not the funeral woman who will make me look like a dead hooker that was just pulled out of the gutter behind a BBQ stand in Sauget. Then I want you to take a nice picture and make that my new Facebook profile pic.

3. I will give you access to my Facebook profile because you will need it to set up my online memoriam. You are in no way allowed to change my status to anything about how you look like Pierce Brosnan or have huge muscles. I would like you to use this medium as a way to ensure there is a constant stream of fresh flowers and burritos placed on my side of the bed for the next 10 years. Wait, 20 years. 30.

Now, on to the more important things...

4. You know that white thing strapped to Ellie's ass? It's called a diaper, and it must be changed every few hours, or if you smell something reminiscent of a petting zoo. Whichever comes first.

5. Our children must eat three meals a day. They don't all have to be well balanced but sugar packets and diet soda do not count as a meal, or even a snack.

6. And for Christ sakes brush their teeth. With actual toothpaste and a toothbrush.

7. And give them a bath, or at least hose them off in the backyard a couple times a week.

8. All bills have to be paid. No, you can't just hide our trash in the neighbors' bushes.

9. I'd prefer them not to watch television at all, but if you must please limit it to one hour/day of educational programming. Don't let them watch those ghost shows unless you want them sleeping on your floor for the next 20 years.

10. And lastly, I expect that at some point you'll venture out of the house, and possibly even talk to another woman. Just remember that I'm watching you. At all times. Always. Oh, what was that noise coming from the closet? she'll say. And you'll know it's me. Standing there. Watching. Judging. But please, don't let that stop you from moving on.