That was the conclusion I came to during my mother's wake. Her pale, dead body in her bed didn't creep my shit out the way her heavily made-up body did in a pretty party dress.
Roman Catholics are fucked up.
Also, when people say, "She looks so good," they are full of shit. She doesn't look good. She looks dead. She would look better in her kitchen making pancakes or inappropriately grabbing someone's ass. Mom liked to grab ass a lot. Man, woman, didn't matter. Your ass was hers. Seriously, if you're ever in St. Charles Cemetery in section 35, be careful where you stand. Your ass is not safe.
On a note somewhat related to ass, I found mom's vibrator as I was going through her dresser. I'm choosing to believe she used it to massage her neck, and not a single one of you can convince me otherwise. La, la, la, I'm not listening to you.
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And the complete void of brown rep continues, ass-grabbed, vibrator-coveting, smoke-sucking hero.
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