On the right of my screen, next to my emails an advert pops up: “If you died unexpectedly could your loved ones afford the bills?” That is SO cute. Pass me a tissue to wipe a tear.
Why not let my UNloved ones foot the bill?
Think Greece: So much cheaper to just resurrect me: Two lives for the price of no funeral. What a bargain. Don’t say I don’t come without a price tag.
U
On the whole, it is never better to be worth more dead than alive, that is, if you intend to stay alive and hope to get any sleep at night. I am more skeptical however, as to what kind of send-off your UNloved ones might have in mind should they be expected to foot the bill…
Comment by Phil — February 21, 2012 @ 23:48 |
Phil, this may come as a surprise to some: Not everyone wants to be loved by me. So those unloved ones, out of sheer gratitude that I left them alone, may give me a send off to die for.
Nah, it’s all taken care off. In my will. Simple yet stylish. Woodland. My hope being, and the Angel doesn’t find it funny, that the tree planted on top of me will take root, not wilt. WILT: Can you imagine how embarrassing that would be?
U
Comment by Ursula — February 22, 2012 @ 12:45 |
Ursula,
Perhaps Angel does not find it funny, and I can understand why, but…
Am in my office right now laughing so outrageously loud that my staff (maybe co-workers would be a better choice of words here…) thinks I’ve lost my mind. I suspect they will be calling an ambulance to have me taken away to the local asylum. Am still laughing. I sure hope they have Internet there.
Somewhere in that reply of yours is a rather fruitful yet hilarious discussion about the merits of selecting good solid wood…
Comment by Phil — February 22, 2012 @ 13:04 |
Things could be worse (or better, depending on your mood). Your advert could be for male erectile dysfunction medication…
Comment by Lorna's Voice — February 22, 2012 @ 19:19 |
Considering that men are supposed to think about sex every six seconds those Viagra adverts are cruel, insensitive to men. You might as well scratch the side of their BMW, break off the Mercedes Star, take a hammer or a spray can to their Lamborghini. Talk about anxiety inducing. Though how it’s possible for men to think about sex every six seconds is beyond me: Symphonies to be composed, books to be written, stomachs to be cut open, countries to be run, and – self proclaimed – they are not good at multitasking. Which is probably why women only think about sex when the window fits.
U
Comment by Ursula — February 23, 2012 @ 09:47 |
Insurance company usually use this technique, Ursula.
Comment by Tikno — March 13, 2012 @ 02:18 |