In life it’s generally implied that we all have to die. Those of us who had normal childhoods usually found this out when a relative with a lot of built up anger and a heart that’s three sizes too small gives you money to go get ice cream and says “I hope you get hit by that ice cream truck and die.” And to be honest, it was a pretty cool thing he said when you know that he could’ve just molested you, or even worse, given you socks with the words “ world’s greatest ass” on them as a present (for me, it was both scenarios). In order to deal with an impending death in a productive way, we write wills! Writing wills is one thing we do to feel better about taking an eventual dirt nap, even though putting on Goth clothes and smoking smelly cigarettes to look deep is another equally good option for us (and a super cool option that all the popular kids are doing at that). In the midst of a ton of sexier options, we still choose to write wills to feel better and have some sort of control over getting hit by a ice cream truck, because unfortunately, we can’t all be this guy
Can you guess who drinks unicorn blood?
I’ve spent a lot of time deciding on which people deserve my things, which if you didn’t know, is hard as hell. To tell you the truth, I still don’t believe anyone is worthy enough to own my tiger costume, mainly because I haven’t met somebody who can get balls-out wasted and wear it with pride at a zoo. That, and I also don’t have one. I’ll have a tiger costume eventually, but I like to think that it’s with me in spirit (and going extinct every passing second.) Regardless of how hard choosing people to be in my will is or the even harder task of giving all my cool shit away, I got my head in the game, listened to Tim Gunn for once (which we all should really do more often) and made it work.
Tim Gunn can help you stitch your shit together
Usually in other peoples wills (or at least the ones I’ve seen/stared at blankly) they always start by including their family members while neglecting any other person who probably influenced their lives more than the person who pushed them out their vagina. I should probably do that since I owe my life to my family. I also remember the countless times that they screwed me over, so I guess they can go fuck themselves. So let’s get started
If you look next to my closet, you will see a guitar. This guitar is very important, probably the most important piece of decoration in the state of Michigan. . . or Thailand. You may be asking yourself “Why is this glorious gift from god collecting dust in that boss bachelor pad you got there?” well the reason it’s there is because ants planned a terrorist attack on the guitars g-string and sadly succeeded. This resulted in a guitar missing a string and me feeling less deep. I could stop being a procrastinator and just replace the string but I’m lazy and have to entrust it to somebody, so I’ll just continue to pretend that I lost my hands in a freak “Where’s Waldo” accident. Alright, so in the sad but “not very surprising” event of my death, disappearance, or transportation to another dimension, I leave my guitar to the ghost of Britney Spears. I’m leaving it to the “ghost” of Britney Spears because even though my chances of dying etc. are pretty high, I’m still pretty sure that I’ll out live her. To top this all off, the reason that I’ve decided to give my guitar to Britney (A.K.A the Britz to nobody) because it’s a good source of inspiration and it makes your hair grow faster.
Just in case this ever happens again. . .
Even though many people need this, I’m deciding to leave my beloved compass to the children of Japan. It was really hard to decide on just one Japanese child so either they can share it (cause sharing is caring) or they can set up a karate tournament in my name that spans the entire country and battle for it. But why would they battle instead of sharing the compass? Well, I assume every east Asian child (actually most kids) would do anything for a little direction in life.
The collection of Snapple caps and fortune cookie fortunes that I’ve collected over the years have taught me most of what I know today. Literally. Those little pieces of paper have definitely given me guidance, while the caps have taught me about the world. And I have to give props to both of those things, because without them, I wouldn’t be making the terrible decisions that I do today. These glorified artifacts (or garbage if you really want to be a dick) are very important and must go to somebody with balls of steel, preferably a week body builder. So I leave my Snapple caps and fortune cookie fortunes to Bam Margera. I think we can all agree that he’s the only one with the mental will power who can handle it.
Fortune cookies are just so inspiring. . .
Due to the constant need of organ donors, I would like to give my kidneys to the coaches on the Biggest Loser. My sick Psychic Skillz are telling me that in a few years the current Biggest Loser coaches will develop pretty bad drinking problems and become addicted to Four Loko, the very classy alcoholic beverage/dolphin tears/energy drink, or “drank” as the great Fergie would say. If you didn’t already know this, any energy alcohol mix is bad for you (suprising I know) and can be represented by this equation:
Four Loko + Human Body = Dude WTF
Giving at least one piece of my body to someone feels like something everyone should do. . . with their own bodies that is. And if I’m going to give my kidneys to anyone, then that person or persons might as well be worthy of them.
Mountain Dew isn’t alcoholic but I’m pretty sure it can still get you fucked up
YES people, as you can tell, I do have a lot of things. But like everyone, I just want to give my things peace of mind. And yes it can be difficult giving those prized possessions of yours away, but unless pharaoh burials go back in style (and they probable will) then we’re gonna have to deal with the fact that nobody wants to have all their shit just go to waste. If you think about it, this process doesn’t have to be all doom, gloom, and Heidi Klum. So stop stressing. Just sit back, chillax, and start choosing people that you want to have all your sweet junk when your gone.
Here’s a couple things that I didn’t mention that I’m giving away, and the people that I’m giving them to:
· Jeremy Piven get’s the blueprints to my flamethrower
· Hood rats everywhere can battle it out for my tiny television
· Africans are going to get all of my food. . . stamps
· My friend can have my dog
· My dog can have my friend
· And I leave my family members all of my money in the form of toilet paper