Last Will and Testament

September 12, 2003

It’s 12:53. We were supposed to go to lunch at 12:30. Indian buffet. Milan. I’ve never been there and am disproportionately excited about this little Friday outing.

Mindy is stuck in the meeting from hell. The meeting from hell includes lunch. She is supposed to leave before lunch. If she isn’t here yet then that means that the meeting has extended for at least 23 (make that 25) minutes into the lunch session.

I’m not too schedule-oriented on a daily basis but during weekdays I need to be progressing toward a meal by 12:30 or I start to freak out.

You know, I always have been quite open about the fact that I’m a girl who could stand to miss a meal or two but as I sit here and listen to my stomach acids digesting my ribcage, I know it isn’t true.

So I think I’m probably about to die and I’m going to write my will out real quick.

Will.

I mean, Last Will and Testament.

To Ginny I leave my zoomy blue car, but she is NOT. ALLOWED. to decorate it with fucking stuffed animals or CD wrapper stickers or Burger King nametags as she has been known to do.

To Sammi I leave all of my CDs with the caveat that she is not allowed to shelf them anywhere remotely near that Avril Lavigne CD she tries to act like she doesn’t own. Also all the back issues of Rolling Stone that she doesn’t have and the copy of Listen to This! that is still in her room anyway.

To Jamie I leave the shitty Gateway computer with its pre-registration version of Snood.

Sammi and Jamie can split my clothes because some of them will fit each of them.

To Mom I leave my sweet little laptop, because I know she comes into my room at night and looks at it and drools.

To Dad I leave all the hockey memorabilia that I didn’t “loan” to Sammi. And also all the stuff I have from football games at school. And Karl. Dad, you can have Karl. And you can have Sasha-cat too because she likes sleeping on your chest.

Everything else I have will be sold on eBay to the highest bidder. Don’t get too excited; it’s all kind of crappy.

Okay. I’m going to fold my hands over my chest and look pretty for when they find me dead.

I’ll miss you all. Well – most of you.

Filed under: old diaryland entries

11 Comments Leave a Comment

  • 1. Gumphood  |  January 11, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    Snood rules…*drool*

  • 2. Cookie  |  January 11, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    Aw, poor hungry Lorie. I type that as I sit here and stuff my face with Reece's bites. Also, I love how you left your dad Karl, hee. Give me a call later, 'mmkay?

  • 3. Kruxy  |  January 11, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    I was going to say goodbye, but seeing as how it's almost three my time and you posted that at 11 my time… well, I'm sure the rats are eating your body.but if not, How was lunch?

  • 4. braedon  |  January 11, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    you my friend..are the gayest gay in gaytown. woozles, but i still heart you.

  • 5. lorie  |  January 11, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    We didn't go till almost 2:30. By then Milan had closed their buffet. So we went to a different place instead and chowed down on sandwiches and a huge-ass plate of cheese fries. Satisfying, overall.

  • 6. mike  |  January 11, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    leave me those boutiful knockers. heh. knockers.

  • 7. mike  |  January 11, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    heh. bouNtiful.

  • 8. lorie  |  January 11, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    okay, you can have those. but i thought you wanted the ghetto booty?

  • 9. mike  |  January 11, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    yes, that too please. booty.

  • 10. Wyndspirit  |  January 11, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    Re your comment on that page giving us the same result for our (yes, VERY different) first names: Rats! There goes my excuse that I have to change my name to improve my life! What cheaters! Who would have imagined???

  • 11. Ginny  |  January 11, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    At least I would decorate the car instead of just leaving it a freaking trash heap. So there.

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