Directions for My Funeral

First off, calm the fuck down. I'm not suicidal, I'm just taking precautions to ensure my life isn't commemorated with some weak-ass bullshit. So if these instructions are not followed precisely I will haunt the shit out of everyone who is complacent in my final wishes being ignored. I will live in your closets, steal your good shoes, and destroy your dreams. Now:

I want my funeral to be held in the bathroom of the most expensive hotel in San Francisco, because death, like life, must be shitty and fabulous. The bathroom will have to be renovated in order to accommodate the thousands of people who will undoubtedly flock to pay their last respects to me, so I demand that the construction team be made up entirely of washed-up male models being supervised by some nasty dominatrix bitches in patent leather onesies. I will, of course, haunt the construction site, providing disembodied wolf-whistling accompanied by the faint smell of weed and Coach perfume. The bathroom should be renovated to reflect the following phrase: King tut in a threesome with Britney Spears and a human disco ball with the personality of Jon Stewart. For brevity's sake, I’ll leave that exact layout up to interpretation. You’re welcome.

All guests will be required to remove their underwear before they’re granted entry, following the logic that if one is not wearing any panties one cannot get them in a twist. Any men who really love me should dress in drag. Ladies, bad-ass dapper suits are encouraged. There will be an open bar and trays of edibles being passed around, because who wants to deal with death sober? I want beautiful, naked men and women to dance around in literal champagne fountains during the reception, while a naked pianist of indeterminate gender plays wearing nothing but a 6-foot tall lavender wig and fluorescent body glitter. I want all flower vases to be filled with California poppies and the tears of Kim Davis.

I want to be cremated so that my ashes can be mixed with cocaine and snorted by anyone who wants Dick inside of them. No worries for those who aren’t so into white girl(s) because my funeral will, undoubtedly, end in a gigantic orgy, so they can get the D that way. The funny thing is it won't end in an orgy because I’m demanding it but because you can’t have the sheer amount of beautiful people I’m friends with in one room to celebrate my awesome life and have it not end in fucking. My vast collection of shoes, which Guinness will have awarded the “world’s largest and most fucking fabulous” award will be given to whoever leaves the best dick joke in my guest book.

Anyone who starts crying will be back-handed by a Nicki Minaj look-alike and then thrown in a dumpster full of glitter.