Me: I’m siiiiiccckkkkkkkkk (he already knew this. I’ve said it four thousand times since the doctor called back to say that Peyton’s strep test was positive. Then my imaginary test would be, too. I’m sick. I got in bed and waited for it to hit me. And it did! I either really have it or really have an awesome case of conversion disorder, either way, awesome. Awesome sick)
Lance: I knoooooooooowwwww. I think I’ll take a nap now.
Me: I. will. stab. you.
That last part didn’t happen that way. He did take a nap though. It doesn’t matter how long it wasn’t. It was a nap. And I was the one who had decided to be sick first.
Me: I need to write my living will right now before I slip into a coma. I have some new provisions.
Lance: Hospital sex?
Me: Gross. Of course that’s what you’d think about if I were in a coma. And that’s already in there. Couldn’t be that much different than it is in real life… No. I want to make sure NO ONE touches my mustache. I figure it’s the only way that I’ll be able to see how long it is. I can’t go more than two days in real life before it’s quite embarrassing. But if it turns out that there’s circus quality hair there, I think we should know.
Lance: Gross. Back to this sex clause.
Me: Sex Clause. Like the sinful version of Santa Clause. Gross. I’d also like a peg leg provision. I’m serious about this. Those robotic appendages are creepy.
Lance: We’ve been over this. There’s too much impact with a wooden leg. You need something to absorb the shock. Pogo stick legs. That’s what I could do for you.
Me: Well there really would be no need for TWO pogo legs, just have them sew my legs together and make it one giant pogo stick.
Lance: That would probably negate the sex clause.
Me: Oooh! If I lost both legs they could just go ahead and make me a mermaid! Dreams do come true!
My husband, who is lovingly reading this over my shoulder to make sure I got the details right is reminding me that not every child dreams to one day become a mermaid and that I need to give you the background information in this area. I told him that he needs to stop telling me what to do. Then he pulled my hair. Anyways, when I was little when asked what I wanted to be on ANYTHING I said, “mermaid”. If I hadn’t left all of my old journals and baby books back in a storage facility in Washington, I’d have proof for you. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” “A mermaid.” “If you could have anything in this world what would it be?” “fins”. It wasn’t until I was in my late twenties (like two weeks ago) that I saw how Dolphins copulate that I even thought about NOT wanting to have fins. But that really wasn’t a deterrent. I don’t like sex that much anyways.
This post would be so much better if I had the drawings I had of myself when I was little as a mermaid. Damn. Instead, I have one that I drew of me just now:
And when I pictured myself as a mermaid I totally realized that I’d have a mermaid muffin top and my sea-bra would fit somewhere under my armpits. So I’ve come to a decision on my living will:
Peg legs. Lance will just have to figure something out.
Lexi Mag 
Hahahahaha! I'm dying. What would your conversations be like if you were a drunk? Nothing could be better than this awesomeness. (If you were a mermaid, your muffin top would float up. And so would your boobs. Cuz you'd be in water, see? So there's an argument FOR being made into a mermaid instead of opting for pogo peg legs. That kind of legs would also cause serious bouncing of loose parts, too. Just something else for you to consider here, before writing out your will.)
Fabulous!! This has inspired me to review my living-will also… I'm thinking of using a medically-induced coma to finish up some large-scale tattoo work on my back…. and hospital sex – Um…no thanks – nurses & docs don't give more than a split-second notice, if any – between "knocking" on your curtain/door and yanking it wide open for public viewing. I know this because I was on the professional end of training for this subject. It's best just avoided. (in my world) 😉
We'll never know about our drunk conversations. Okay, never say never. My old bishop did approve me throwing a party that I'm allowed to get drunk at by "liking" a facebook comment where I asked him to sign off on such a thing.Next, you make a great point about the loose parts floating. Except, that means my new bangs would float up, too, and then nothing would hide my forehead wrinkles. That's not really why I have them.I'm trying to morph myself into Kelle Hampton.
They'd only have to knock-not wait once though… lesson learned. Forever.One time when I was working in an Alzhiemer's unit, I caught two unmarried people TRYING to have sex. This was in Utah and I knew both of the people were good Mormon folk who would have, before they lost their ability to recognize this, never have done this. They were completely convinced that they were husband and wife.So I didn't tell them they were not and apologized. Then the one dude followed me out without any pants on asking for breakfast. I was 16. SIXTEEN!
Yikes! Old-people, dementia-fueled, semi-nekkid, quasi-sex! Ewwww. Might explain some stuff, Lex.
Brilliant, hilarious post!
haha! I have no will – living or otherwise! I'm going to live forever!
Unless I murder you.
Wasn't the last time, either. We called that lady the Emeritus Whore.
This made my day. You are my favorite.