Yesterday I was on the train for the first time in a while. Since I recently moved, this is a rare occasion since I no longer have to take it to/from work, Target, the grocery store, etc. since I live in the heart of Boystown and can walk everywhere that my little heart desires. My BFF and I were on our way back from dropping the keys off to my old apartment and housing burgers, onion rings, and a pitcher of 312. As we passed a cemetery (or graveyard as she likes to morbidly refer to it), we started discussing funeral plans.
Me: “I’m going to get you one of those little house things.”
Her: “Eh, those are too big.”
Me: “Fine. I’ll cremate you and have you turned into a diamond.”
Her: “If that’s what it takes to get a ring on your finger, okay!”
On that note, we decided we should probably schedule an appointment to meet with a funeral services coordinator. Why? Because that’s the type of friends we are.
The two of us walk into the office to meet with whoever is in charge of the planning process.
“Hi. We’d like to see about making plans to have her cremated and turned into a diamond. Sooner rather than later. Does she need to be fattened up? She’s currently unemployed and unable to afford groceries and works out a ton since she has nothing else to do, so we’re working on finding her a job so she can sit at a desk and get fat so there’s more body mass to make a larger diamond. If we REALLY fatten her up can we turn her into a new pair of square-cut diamond earrings for me? How soon can we kill her off and make this happen?”
Yes, this conversation happened. On the train. Between the two of us. I’m sure the people around us were thinking “WTF are these idiots talking about?” But did we care? Nope. We were too busy laughing at the ridiculousness of our dysfunctional friendship to care.
That’s just how we roll.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to Google “funeral planning diamond cremation services in Chicago” and get the ball rolling on this.