A Matter of Public Record
I confirm that I am, in fact, Saara and that I make this Live Journal entry of my own free will.
For those of you who will someday try to say this isn't legally binding, I refer you to the blogs that have been used as evidence in murder trials in recent years. I don't have links, but you know y'all saw them.
This is also a record for DJ, in case he's too grief-stricken to remember how hilarious I was should the below-mentioned condition become reality, so that he will remember what he's supposed to do.
Now, to business:
If, for any reason, I end up in a persistent vegetative state, I want to be kept alive, dressed up in my most fabulous outfits*, and placed on the lawn -- I will be the most fashionable lawn ornament ever. Please prop an umbrella over my head when it's raining or when the sun is especially bright, as I don't want my hair to get messed up or a sunburn to clash with the color of my dress.
Children should not be allowed to touch me, especially if they've been eating sandwiches that include jelly. Adolescents and grown-ups can have pictures taken with me for $20 each (increased appropriately for inflation, plus handling fees)**.
Additionally, a speaker should be placed behind my head so that I can impart wisdom and advice to the masses like a grotesque, well-hatted Magic 8-ball. Please insert some impending doom-y and snotty messages into my loud speaker at random, especially if Vegetative-Me-as-Yucky-Urban-Oracle catches on. So, you know, most people will get "Yea, Verily, all things are as they're supposed to be" or "A thousand-mile journey begins with one step"; but then some people will get "Jesus fuck, Tubby: cover that middriff!" or just "It's inoperable."
*And don't skimp on the garter belt and stockings. Attention to undergarments is even more important when one loses one's higher and motor functions.
**Use the proceeds to have me bronzed after I die so that I can continue to sit on the lawn in my amazing outfit with my umbrella for all eternity.
For those of you who will someday try to say this isn't legally binding, I refer you to the blogs that have been used as evidence in murder trials in recent years. I don't have links, but you know y'all saw them.
This is also a record for DJ, in case he's too grief-stricken to remember how hilarious I was should the below-mentioned condition become reality, so that he will remember what he's supposed to do.
Now, to business:
If, for any reason, I end up in a persistent vegetative state, I want to be kept alive, dressed up in my most fabulous outfits*, and placed on the lawn -- I will be the most fashionable lawn ornament ever. Please prop an umbrella over my head when it's raining or when the sun is especially bright, as I don't want my hair to get messed up or a sunburn to clash with the color of my dress.
Children should not be allowed to touch me, especially if they've been eating sandwiches that include jelly. Adolescents and grown-ups can have pictures taken with me for $20 each (increased appropriately for inflation, plus handling fees)**.
Additionally, a speaker should be placed behind my head so that I can impart wisdom and advice to the masses like a grotesque, well-hatted Magic 8-ball. Please insert some impending doom-y and snotty messages into my loud speaker at random, especially if Vegetative-Me-as-Yucky-Urban-Oracle catches on. So, you know, most people will get "Yea, Verily, all things are as they're supposed to be" or "A thousand-mile journey begins with one step"; but then some people will get "Jesus fuck, Tubby: cover that middriff!" or just "It's inoperable."
*And don't skimp on the garter belt and stockings. Attention to undergarments is even more important when one loses one's higher and motor functions.
**Use the proceeds to have me bronzed after I die so that I can continue to sit on the lawn in my amazing outfit with my umbrella for all eternity.