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Hope I Die Before I Get Old

By Tater Barley Banks | Posted Under Comment Diversions | Comments (67)

bejamin-button-01_680341c.jpg

I have a birthday this month and I’m old. You know how you know you’re old? You start a sentence, “One of my doctors said …” I did that the other day. Then I thought about how many doctors I have. Family doctor. Heart doctor. Cancer doctor. Eye doctor. Dick doctor.

So you may notice an age and death cant to this month’s weekend diversions. Such as this one.

The other day I was telling my friend and coworker Jesse that I didn’t want to live forever.

“75 sounds about right,” I said. “I won’t have spent every last dime keeping myself alive and I won’t be a burden on Tater Tot. If I’m losing my mind I won’t be too far gone. I won’t be wallowing in my own urine (or anyone else’s) in some snakepit of a nursing home. If I could just step off the planet and float into space and combust, that would be perfect.”

And he said someone had asked a number of hospice workers and nurses and other people who care for the sick, the elderly and the dying what the best way to die was.

The answer?

Cancer.

Generally, cancer takes you slowly, so you have time to settle your affairs, time to get and give lots of hugs, time to make amends and/or guilt people who’ve wronged you, time to take that trip you always wanted, see that movie, hire two hookers and have that threeway, and in the last weeks, morphine, baby!

That’s not how I want to go, though. I’m thinking shot to death in flagrante delicto by a jealous husband (post-coital, sirs, if you don’t mind waiting a minute).

What age sounds good to you? And how would you like to check out?

Bonus points for your projected famous last words and epitaph.










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Comments

85 sounds good. I actually want to experience the insanity of old age. If I don't make it to that age, I'm hoping to be killed in the attack on Michael Bay's production offices. At least then I can say I contributed.

My epitaph: I'm dead Why won't you people fuck off and leave me alone now? I hate you all.

Posted by: admin at May 15, 2010 3:16 PM

Its not age so much as function. The moment I get so that I start to hobble and have trouble walking up and down stairs I want to suddenly explode blood and guts all over the place, preferably around a lot of people so that their day is ruined/life is scarred.

I know that won't happen though. A gypsy read my future and told me I would get eaten by a shark.

Posted by: jR at May 15, 2010 3:25 PM

This: http://www.rhymes-with-witch.com/rww01022007.shtml

RK Millholland may have illustrated and outlined the plan before I could, but I thought of it first!

Last words: "Wow. My guidance counselor was right."

Posted by: PaleoLithchick at May 15, 2010 3:35 PM

Age: Over 100. I figure I can clear the century mark.

How: Riding the big bomb and saving humanity in the process.

Epitaph: "Nope, I didn't see THAT coming."

Posted by: Fredo at May 15, 2010 3:50 PM

85

I want to be married for 50 years and it is going take until then.

My son will be 48 and that doesn't seem an unreasonable age to lose a parent.

Honestly, I just don't want to outlive my money. My fears for the future revolve
less around how and when, and more around "Please don't let me be reduced
to eating cat food."

Posted by: Mrs. Julien at May 15, 2010 3:55 PM

I would have to agree, it wouldn't be so much of what age I was but rather what degree of functionality I was at.

If I can live on my own, not be in any real pain or discomfort, remember everything, and go to the toilet without assistance then I have no problem living to be 90 if that's the case. If on the other hand I wake up tomorrow and I'm little more than a burden on everyone and everything than I would like to vacate this plane of existence posthaste.

Now HOW I choose to take myself out of the human equation is a different story. I could just as easily volunteer for something suicidal for the sake of going out in a blaze of glory. But to be honest I'm not sure being a geriatric fighter pilot or breathing crash test dummy is really high on the list of least painful ways to go. I could take the easy way out and claim I'd like to go out in mid-coitus, but I'm not sure I want to fuck up my wife like that with a re-enactment of "Gerald's Game" either.

...I don't suppose I could just have my corpse shot out of a cannon like a necrotic Evel Knievel. At least then there would be a degree of excitement.

I think the most satisfying death I can think of is to discover the meaning of the entire universe ten minutes before you go, and smugly bragging about it before taking it with you. There's something satisfying about your last vocal words being, "Yes! I knew it!...It's was all so simple!" Selfish and stupid I grant you, but then again so is most of life as we know it. In the grand scheme of history most people are forgotten within a century and only the ones who have done something really good or really evil have any real chance of enduring- and even then time has a way of distorting the truth.

As for my epitaph, I think it should read, "Cemeteries are a real waste of land. This place would so much better as a park for the living." Just because I find saving all the dead people to be an archaic use of the best locations (and granite).

Posted by: bleujayone at May 15, 2010 4:06 PM

I'll live to be over 100. I'm very healthy and old age runs in my family. Plus, I'm a weaver. Most of the weavers I know have lived to be over a 100. Weaving keeps your brain sharp. Plus, I'm following the plan laid down by my mentor who died at 103, and her mentor who died at 107.

What's the plan? Teach, for free. By giving my time to others, I've collected more friends who'll check up on me later than I'd ever have otherwise.

Epitaph? Not needed. I plan on donating as many body parts as they'll take to others (that'll keep bits of me alive) and cremating the rest and fertilizing a tree with the ashes.

Posted by: BWeaves at May 15, 2010 4:22 PM

Old enough that it won't scar the kids, and since I'm a smoker, I'm almost guranteed cancer, which I accept. I agree with the whole idea of having time to get your shit in order and saying goodbye. I'm a control freak like that.
My gravestone will only have my name/dates and the following: "I TOLD you I was sick"

Posted by: courtney at May 15, 2010 4:31 PM

One millisecond either before or after my husband dies.

Posted by: Jerce at May 15, 2010 4:34 PM

I used to say 75. But now that I'm over 40, I'm leaning more towards 85. I'm guessing by 60 (if I make that) it will be 95.

I'm not sure about method, but I'd like to be minty flavor soylent green afterwards, not that pedestrian regular shit. Thanks.

-Frob

Posted by: frobme at May 15, 2010 4:37 PM

I'm not comfortable choosing an age. I want to live forever. Seriously. Vampirism, Highlanderism...anyway I can get it.

Maybe medical science will perpetuate the anti-aging cell perpetuation in the next few hundred years, but I doubt I'll live to reap the benefits. I would love to live to see any aliens. If humans are still around in a few billion years, I'd really like to see what we do about the Sun closing in on us.

With my diet, though, I'll probably check out relatively early.

That said, I'm like bleujayone when it comes to my feelings on cemeteries, and, like BWeaves, please donate anything useful and cremate when I go.

Posted by: DarthCorleone at May 15, 2010 4:50 PM

I want to live long enough to be a fun bitchy old lady who wears funny hats. I think I could do that by age 60. My own mother is totally wasting hr 60's right now and I'm definitely going to outdo her. So I can die around 75-ish. Just as long as I don't linger around bedridden for several years.

I then hope to die suddenly of a heart attack. Nothing too unusual for me. I want my life to outshine my death.

Last words: "Oh shit my heart hurts!"

Epitaph:
Here lies lainiefig, motha, lova, gangsta.

Posted by: lainiefig at May 15, 2010 4:58 PM

Thoughts;

--Royal Tenenbaum had the best headstone I've ever damn seen.

--If I get killed by a "Mega"-anything, I want those sum'bitches at the Sci-Fi channel strung out on a barb wire fence so the crows can pick at em. That's what you get for prophesizing the coming of a mega-shark, mega-octopus, mega-jackrabbit, mega-pomegranate or mega-what-the-fuck-ever.

--I don't wanna die in a hospital. Somebody can stand me up outside somewhere, I ain't going out like that if I have a choice.

--Viking funeral. No arguing this. Spend my kids' college money on a dragon boat. They probably caused the heart attack anyway.

--If they invent time travel or I stumble upon a wormhole in the backwoods of Connecticut, I aim to go out in a blaze of glory at one of the following battles;

Thermopylae
Bannockburn
Helm's Deep (DAMN YOU REALITY!)
Shiroyama
The Alamo
Changban
Launched as a human bullet at Galactus (REALITY KICKS ME AGAIN!)

Meh, we'll see.

Posted by: D-Day at May 15, 2010 4:59 PM

I'm a firm believer in the old joke.

"When I go, I want to go in my sleep, like my grandfather, not screaming like the passengers in his car."

My mother got it right. She laid down for the night and went peacefully in her sleep. (bled into her brain for some unknown reason).

She made it to 79 (missed her 80th birthday by a couple of months).

Damn, now I'm all misty. It just happened in January...

Posted by: Uncle JR at May 15, 2010 5:03 PM

I don't believe in the future, so I can't contribute to this as far as when/how.

I can say that I ALSO don't believe in taking up land with my useless corpse, so I prefer cremation/scattering. A nice little memorial plaque somewhere would be cool though. It would say, "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and to be loved in return." Cheesy? Yes. I'm a cheesy sort of girl.

Posted by: Anna von Beaversmack at May 15, 2010 5:05 PM

I think go suddenly, doing something fun & crazy-stupid-risky that I wouldn't try until "I owe no more to the future."

"I went skyyyyyy-diving.
I went rocky mountain climbing.
I went three point seven seconds,
on a bull named Fu Manchu ..."

Without an imposed expiration date, I'm not sure how or when to make that call. I've already had a good life. If this is all I get, I'm OK with that. BUT, I don't see me ever not wanting more.

I mentor of mine got an "all clear" on his cancer yesterday. He's had eroding function as long as I've known him - 15 years or more. Yet he has fun and does some good every day. He's talking about what he'll work on next.

I guess that's it - as long as I'm having fun and doing some good, more is better. Given the damage I've accumulated, I figure about age 75 with current medicine. BUT, we're about to see all kinds of therapies emerge over the next 20 years or so. I wouldn't be surprised to live, functioning and contributing, to well over 100.

Posted by: BierceAmbrose at May 15, 2010 5:07 PM

I'd like to die at 27 or 34, and I'd like a quick death.

Famous last words: "Estuvo bueno. Nos vemos."

Epitaph: "Here lies Sofía. 'Cause she's dead."

Posted by: Sofía at May 15, 2010 5:15 PM

Oh, yeah. Memorial. What memorial does one have beyond the marks left while living my life, on other people, and on the world. (Not that kind of marks - pervs.)

Posted by: BierceAmbrose at May 15, 2010 5:19 PM

I got old. I did not die.
Neither did Roger Daltrey and yet he continues to sing that anthem to teen angsty style rebellion with (what's left of) The Who and on his solo tours.
Inappropriate.
Hmmm... 75-80, cancer. Not too lingering, mind you. Just long enough to get things in order, etc.

Posted by: Spender at May 15, 2010 5:20 PM

I want to die a hero in either the zombie apocalypse or in the battle against Skynet. Thinking about death scares me so I start to blur the lines of reality in cases you couldn't tell.

My epitaph will be "Live Forver or Die Trying" from Catch 22. I love that line even if it sounds silly.

Posted by: schrome at May 15, 2010 5:25 PM

I'd be happy going in my sleep, and sometime in my nineties.

You know how I don't want to go? The way I almost did. In a hospital bed, with all my family around, from a shitty auto immune disorder that decided it would be a good time to attack my body, on my friggin 23th birthday. Scariest day of my life, but thankfully because I was in the hospital, they were able to save my life. I sometimes wonder how people would react if they were waking past my tombstone and saw the same birthday date and death date. Is that really tragic, or would people think I partied to hard? Of course after that I told my parents, no grave for me. I'm all about donating my organs (most likely to science because I don't think they can give my organs to someone without it being a medical risk.)

Posted by: Taylor at May 15, 2010 5:36 PM

Thank you, Tater! As a smoker, I'm finally looking forward to my cancerous demise, and I feel no further need to feel guilty about being a smoker. And I really was thinking about quitting (again) but fuck that! I love excuses not to quit! Hooray morphine-fuled threeways!

Posted by: Johnny C. Georgie at May 15, 2010 6:10 PM

Well, the family member I most resemble physically survived WWII in Poland, as a Jewish woman, moved to Brazil and lived on her own, completely sane and capable, until she was 102.

So, I want to follow in her footsteps. And die very, very quickly. Like, before I have time to realize it quickly.

Posted by: That Girl at May 15, 2010 6:25 PM

i plan to overdose on viagra like one guy not so recently did but that will only be after i've met my great grand kids.

Posted by: Utah Dynamo at May 15, 2010 6:25 PM

By the time I get old enough to be at risk of being offed by some disease or one of my own organs gone rogue, there will be a cure for death.

Posted by: Poultice at May 15, 2010 6:26 PM

I'd be happy going in my sleep, and sometime in my nineties.

You know how I don't want to go? The way I almost did. In a hospital bed, with all my family around, from a shitty auto immune disorder that decided it would be a good time to attack my body, on my friggin 23th birthday. Scariest day of my life, but thankfully because I was in the hospital, they were able to save my life. I sometimes wonder how people would react if they were waking past my tombstone and saw the same birthday date and death date. Is that really tragic, or would people think I partied to hard?
i'v read obituairies where that happened good day to go.

Posted by: Utah Dynamo at May 15, 2010 6:28 PM

Epitaph: I did it and I'm glad!

or

Huh. That's stra . . .

Posted by: Tracer Bullet at May 15, 2010 6:56 PM

For years, I've skewed towards a younger ideal: around 50. However, as I've become more and more confident with myself as a worthwhile and productive member of society, I've reevaluated it. I'm thinking early/mid-70's would be great.

As for how I go, I've often thought of it happening with something horribly uncharacteristic for me. Maybe I decide to climb on top of a tall building to take in the view, remember I'm terrified of heights, and die in the throws of a panic attack. I've also envisioned dying of an allergy attack in the middle of NYC; not in one of those fancy, deadly, tree-filled parks, either. I wouldn't want any more foliage than Union Square so it seems extra ironic. That one would be the ticket, I think.

Epitaph: Playing Against Type Since 1985

Posted by: Robert at May 15, 2010 7:24 PM

I'd like to live to be pretty old, I had my kids later and I'd like to see them partner up and have some kids before I go. I'm not interested in living if I lose my mind or body though. Recent studies suggest that women who marry younger men don't live as long as women who marry older men, but I guess that just means Mr Smith and I should finish up about the same time, which is very cool with me.

Don't wanna be buried, but I guess I could be cremated in a t-shirt that says "Why are you being so hostile to me?" cause that would pretty much work every day of my life, so why not every day of my death.

Posted by: Mrs Smith at May 15, 2010 7:27 PM

Oh, no need to feel so chagrined about doctors, whatever your name is this fortnight. This is website of fighters. I'll spar you doctor to doctor anyway. Here's how my upcoming week is shaped:

Monday: thyroid ultrasound and endocrinologist
Tuesday: psychiatrist
Wednesday: phlebotimist
Thursday: psychoanalyst
Friday: g.p., mental health services, pharmacy.

That's a lotta danged stuff. Apart from sending good vibes, I say it because I too have a birthday in May (mine was on Monday). and by the way I describe it, you would think that I went to summer camp with Calpurnia. Not really. I've been 26 for less than a week and I will dance for lithium, shoot for escalitopram.

Cast thine eyes upon the glory of genetics!

Based on the garbage that we through with my grandmother for the last (almost) 20 years of her life, I don't want to live to see an age wherin much of my well being is contingent upon the kindness of people with whom I share no surname. However, the women in my family are traditionally still hanging about once they've passed age 95. And what with me being a crazed loner, it's disheartening to think about my cat allergy.

Posted by: Jo 'Mama' Besser at May 15, 2010 7:39 PM

Listen Banks, I don’t care about no stinking death, nor do I care about what age I die at. For all I care I can go right now and I wouldn’t give a fuck. But when I do die I want to just be finishing up on some hot woman’s ass, and as she’ s coming back from the bathroom with a glass of water for me, and a lukewarm rag for her to wipe my batch off of her. Out of nowhere I suddenly sit up in bed and die from an aneurysm in my brain goddamit.

Posted by: Pookie at May 15, 2010 7:42 PM

Hmm. Expected age at time of death: Somewhere in the 70s or 80s, I think (my family's a rather long-lived tribe, but due to accumulated job stress and health issues I may not see my granddad's 97).

Type of funeral? Viking style, complete with gang-deflowered virgin sacrifice at my feet and valuable items packed around me. Failing that, burial at sea by my enemies (I figure I'll stipulate they be pallbearers and they'll all drown, hee hee hee).

Epitaph? "Enjoy yourself; it's later than you think."

Posted by: The Wanderer at May 15, 2010 7:49 PM

Screw that, I want to be frozen with one one of my childhood heroes, Walt Disney. Of course I probably will never be able to afford that, so my epithat will likely say: "It WAS a tumor", which will play on a digital player in Arnold's voice.

Posted by: Uriah Creep at May 15, 2010 7:51 PM

Hm... as a relatively young un, old age scares the utter poop outta me. I don't want to get real old and insane and live in a 'home', I'd rather leave whatever family I have out of that misery since that's what happened to my gran and it was terribly depressing to be a part of, bless her.

My ma says the minute she gets senile, to stick her in a home because she won't know the difference anyway and she'll at least pretend to like us :)

My dad turns 60 this year and he's in a wheelchair from a car accident nearly 30 years ago (GO GO CYBORG!), and I've been told since I was wee that he wouldn't ake it past 60 because of his collapsed lung, he's now overweight and he takes poor care of himself when I'm not around... Strange as is, I don't want him to live forever, I don't want to see him suffer and decay, I want him with dignity and to know he is not a burden at all and I love him dearly... So if he dies tomorrow I can treasure my memories with him a whooole bunch!

Me? If I have a family, I want my kid to be an adult, I want my significant other to go RIGHT AFTER ME so I can take him with me because I'm a greedy bitch who doesn't want to share in this life or any other one... I'd prefer something dignified like dying in my sleep with my loverpie (Like the Notebook but not shitty)... but I couldn't be more than 70, 75 is pushing it!

Epitaph: "Oh my God! They killed Kenny"

Posted by: Milla at May 15, 2010 8:11 PM

right now I kinda dont wanna wake up every time I go to bed since i'm kinda of gloriously useless and the idea of being this useless and waisting space, food, air and people's energy kinda piss me off to no end so I guess that when I die my most appropriate epitaph should be "about fucking time!"
if I menage to stop being so freaking useless I might hope for a long life but let's face it, that's not going to happen.
think garfield without the charm.

Posted by: rio at May 15, 2010 8:52 PM

When I go, I just want it to be dramatic and mysterious enough for someone to end up making a movie about it or at least one of those TruTV documentaries where all of the forensic experts get together and try to sort it all out. I want urban legends made of my demise, freaking Unsolved Mysteries kind of shit. I want TAPS to fucking enter my home in hopes of contacting my spirit! I want college students to be telling my story at 3:00 am while on drinking binges and my house considered haunted by the neighborhood kids!

In reality, I'll probably die alone and be found partially eaten by my dogs.

Posted by: ZombieNurse at May 15, 2010 8:53 PM

A friend of mine swears that she's going to kill herself at the ripe old age of 30.

I, however, would rather wait a bit longer. For me it's not so much about age as the people that are still left around me, you know? For example, once my spouse dies, I'm gone. I mean, who wants to stick around when everybody you once knew has gone kaput?

Posted by: DontStopNow at May 15, 2010 9:36 PM

I'm jumping off the Tyne Bridge on June 1st.

Posted by: Yasmin at May 15, 2010 9:39 PM

i'm in hospice. i hope it's something that requires morphine and my favorite music. and i'm leaving a key to a mysterious safety deposit box, just for the drama.

Posted by: dixie at May 15, 2010 10:50 PM

"Then I thought about how many doctors I have. Family doctor. Heart doctor. Cancer doctor. Eye doctor. Dick doctor."

Tell me about it. In the last five years, I've seen more doctors than the Harvard Medical School and undertaken more tests than Lindsay Lohan. Worst of all, I think, they've had me on a healthy (read: BLAND) diet. If I ever find out I'm terminal from some disease, I will first do all Pajibans a favor by taking out Rainbow Killer and counselling the Human Centipede segments (they've apparently had a spat), then I will commit suicide by fast food. Bring on the Double Downs, McWhatever-the-fuck McDonalds is serving, and bacon with cheese wrapped in bacon (with a side of bacon with cheese). Too bad trans fats have all but disappeared from menus. I'm sure I had some shortening here somewhere...

Posted by: Molested by dwarves at May 15, 2010 10:55 PM

Gah. Most forms of cancer are horribly painful. I don't care how much time it gives you, fuck that noise. I want to live into my late 90s. We're pretty long-lived in my family. My grandma died at 98 and that was really only because she'd given up years before. If she'd actually wanted to live she'd probably have made it past 100. My great aunt lived to be 97 and she was in her own home taking care of herself until the last 7 or 8 months. So I figure 90s should be just fine. And I want to go peacefully in my sleep, but I want my obituary to say I was killed by pirates.

Posted by: dr. pisaster at May 15, 2010 11:12 PM

Everyone in my family gets cancer or some horrible neurological disease (Alzheimer's, etc). Everyone in my husband's family gets cancer, Alzheimer's, Parkinsons, or drops dead at an early age of heart disease (like, at 40).

In light of all that: A) Our future kids are screwed, and B) Kind of hoping for a piano to drop on me the day I start losing my marbles. Is that too much to ask?

Posted by: Tammy at May 15, 2010 11:40 PM

Yasmin, I hope you reconsider.

Posted by: James at May 15, 2010 11:50 PM

My great aunt said she didn't care how she went as long as it was quick and her hair looked good. She stroked out under a hair dryer when she was 96...

I think sounds like a great idea, although I'd really like to live long enough to see Haley's Comet again since it was a bit of a fizzle last time. And if I outlive all my siblings I can have the last laugh about never eating my vegetables.

No epitaph, no tombstone, no funeral - liquidate everything I have and send everyone to a baseball game with the beer and brats on me. They'll get a group rate, wear matching t-shirts and hats and go as the Funtime Memorial Choir and sing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" at the top of their lungs.

Posted by: funtime42 at May 16, 2010 12:08 AM

Having dealt with major depressive disorders for the entire length of my life, I have spent entirely too much time thinking about my death and how it will happen.

At this point, I hope I live long enough to be able to say I am truly happy, and truly loved. If that's tomorrow or when I am 108, it won't matter.

That being said, I work for a medical/oxygen supply company. I don't want to decline physically enough to have to need any of the equipment that I work with.

Posted by: Maria at May 16, 2010 12:28 AM

Gah. I just turned 40 this week, and thought about death. 80 seems about right, and it means I'm halfway there. I'd want it to be both suitably dramatic and painless, but I probably can't have both. Well, as long as it's not because of evil plants and breezes or some asteriod slamming into the Eastern seaboard, it's cool. I don't want my death to be just background noise-although the odds are that's exactly what it will be. Isn't everyones?

Posted by: Mrcreosote at May 16, 2010 12:59 AM

I'm 20... I'm too fucking young to be even thinking about this stuff. Hopefully when I die I'm doing something awesome... rather than just being sick, old and dying because that would freaking suck.

Posted by: RonnyK at May 16, 2010 4:10 AM

Long lingering death is OK as long as I'm pretty old, I've done everything I wanted to do, and they have REALLY good drugs. Otherwise, a very quick heroic death sounds pretty good. Maybe throwing myself on a grenade, saving the lives of hundreds. All anyone would ever remember about me is the heroism. The few who recalled all the dumb things I ever did would be gracious enough not to mention them.

Last words: "Yaaaaaaaargh!"

Epitaph: She meant well.

Posted by: cinderkeys at May 16, 2010 4:45 AM

For as long as I can stay sane & physically able. Knowing my family genes, I'll probably make it to the mid 2060s, after most of my friends will be gone.

Posted by: oskar at May 16, 2010 6:32 AM

I don't really care how as long as I'm not a burden on my family. My great-grandmother just refuses to die and has the attitude of "I took care of everyone when I was younger, it's your duty now to take care of me." While that may be justified it doesn't change the fact that she has robbed my grandmother of the past three years of her life because she requires 'round-the-clock care and refuses to go to a nursing home. It got so hard on my grandmother that my mom had to move in with them to help, and now they're both losing their minds. Great-grandma even uses a bell to summon them whenever she wants anything (which is every ten minutes and usually overnight).

So yeah, as long as my dying doesn't make my family contemplate putting a pillow over my face, I'll be good.

Posted by: Dingles at May 16, 2010 9:59 AM

Also, I'd want to do what my dad did when he passed at age 42: donate my entire body to science, have them do horrible and probably hilarious stuff with it for one year, get the remains cremated and my family scatter the ashes at my favorite national park.

My dad was badass.

Posted by: Dingles at May 16, 2010 10:10 AM

I'm going for Augusten Burroughs' plan: have a tree fall on my husband and me so we die suddenly at the same time. Bliss.

Posted by: southwer at May 16, 2010 11:19 AM

My dad lingered before dying, and for months my mom kept trying to get him to help her plan his funeral. He refused. After a particularly heated argument on the topic, he finally bellowed at her "After I'm dead, you can stick a sausage up my ass and let the dogs drag me through town! I don't give a shit!"
We didn't, but the visual was priceless.

Posted by: courtney at May 16, 2010 12:34 PM

Reading this, I've just discovered a serious perk about being single: I don't have to give a shit about a significant other. I can die whenever I want, however I want.

I think, once I hit the age where I can tell I'm slowing down, this will be my plan: I'll drive to Chicago, drink vodka until I'm combustible, climb a tall building, light myself on fire, and jump.

Epitaph: She went out in a blaze of glory.

HAH!

Posted by: Bequafina at May 16, 2010 2:06 PM

planned epitaph: She never mowed a lawn.

Posted by: wsapnin at May 16, 2010 4:36 PM

I'm a member of the functionality over age crowd. When someone has to wipe my ass for me for the rest of my life, I hope they decide to pull the plug instead.

That said, I'd prefer any death where I get to use the last words "Hey, hold mah beer"

Posted by: Lennon at May 16, 2010 6:03 PM

I don`t want to die. Like, at all.
Who wants to live forever? I do!
Burden on my family? Ha. I was a Very Sick Child for years, so nothing new there. And nothing so crushingly incompatible with dignity that it makes you want to die years before your time (that`s, like, a very ableist point of view and stuff).
I can`t, even strictly hypothetically, imagine my way of dying or my epitaph, because I don`t want to die just that much.
I`m also really drunk. Of vodka. On Sunday night, hours before work. Because that`s how we, Russians, roll!

Posted by: Jae at May 16, 2010 6:32 PM

I don't care when or how I die, so long as I'm buried in a proper grave with a tombstone bearing the following epitaph:

GET OFF MY LAWN!!!

Posted by: a disturbingly large amount of poo at May 16, 2010 7:53 PM

@Maria

This caught my eye: Having dealt with major depressive disorders for the entire length of my life,

There's a marvelous book "The Noonday Daemon", a first-person account of dealing with long-term clinical depression, supplemented with very well-researched background and analysis. The author is writer / journalist, so the "not my story" parts are great. But the strength of the book is how the background & experience play off each other.

Every major disease or condition should have a book like this, and one hopes as good.


At this point, I hope I live long enough to be able to say I am truly happy, and truly loved. If that's tomorrow or when I am 108, it won't matter.

Well, with that comment, clearly you have the wisdom to achieve both, and maybe have.

Posted by: BierceAmbrose at May 16, 2010 8:20 PM

For Christ sakes BierceAmbrose you really know how to take the fun out of dying.

Posted by: Pookie at May 16, 2010 9:55 PM

Recently, before a major surgery, I told my parents that if something went wrong and they didn't pull the plug I'd haunt them forever.
No veggie state for me thanks.
When I'm old and useless I want to be put on an ice floe like an eskimo.
I may be in the minority but I love cemeteries. I HATE flat boring tombstones though. I want a large elaborate gravesite with a granite chair and fireplace with a granite book on the arm of the chair.
My epitaph: What was that noise?

Posted by: trixie at May 17, 2010 12:57 AM

Let's say I found out six months ago that I'm terminally ill (but the kind of terminally ill where you can still be good looking) I hit the gym and get super ripped. Not bulky, mind, just lean. All this time I will avoid sunlight so my skin goes a pale, pasty colour. I will then roll around in glitter and stroll broodingly through the crowd of Twi-tards at the opening of whatever the latest Stephenie Meyer shitfest is. I will feel the sweaty, lumpy bodies of fat middle-aged women press tighter and tighter around me; feel their sausagelike fingers and gaping, drooling mouths clamp down on my muscular flesh. I close my eyes as the final darkness falls...


...and trigger the multiple pounds of high explosive I have carefully hidden in every crevice of clothing, every bodily orifice, every spare nook and cranny.

I am become Death, redeemer of the hopelessly retarded.

Posted by: Ed at May 17, 2010 4:38 AM

I imagine I'll live to my 80's at least, if not longer. My grandfather lives in Puerto Rico and he's 97 years old still maintaining his chicken farm. I figure if I die, it'll be because my body just gave out. That's how most of my family has died; not due to any illnesses.

I think I'd like to be cremated but I usually tell my friends this line from Absolutely Fabulous:

"Buried? Buried? I don't want to be buried! I want to be laid out on a rock in the Ganges and be pecked at by birds!"

Posted by: Shu Shu Fontana at May 17, 2010 10:38 AM

I want to flip my 'vette when I'm 90.

Posted by: K at May 17, 2010 10:54 AM

I'm selfish: I want a long life, physical and mental health, a chance to get to know my grandchildren, and to have my husband with me all the way. Oh, and I want to be buried so that people can be sad as shit when they come to visit me in the cemetery.

Trixie - I like cemeteries, too. There's something peaceful about the whole communal enterprise.

Posted by: samantha t at May 18, 2010 5:53 PM

When functionality starts slipping away. Which, considering my genes, could be as early as 45. Thanks mum and dad! Considering the alternative though - an increasingly earlier loss of income in a world that views human beings with less regard than machines, and pissing one's jammies in their 90s in some God forsaken facility - I think I'm ok with that.

Famous last words: I'm home, bitch! (I operate under the assumption that I'm already staring into the firey pit of hell)

I want to be cremated, since I'm already burning for all eternity so what's one more spark.

Epitaph. Hmm, this is a tricky one, should I have them scatter my ashes, or preserve them just in case I feel like coming back to exact my revenge on all the fucktards that pissed me off and some that didn't? I think I'll go with the latter. In which case: Ring around the rosy/ pocketful o' posies/ Ashes Ashes/ You'll all fall dead. P.S. Fuck you people!
Not you, you're lovely, it was part of the epitaph.

Posted by: TweeBubblyKlutz at May 19, 2010 6:12 AM

by age 50

Posted by: canali at January 19, 2011 6:40 PM