They keep telling us to stay healthy, eat well and regularly exercise…and then they make it harder than ever to do so. By ‘they’ I’m talking about the government, of course. So much hypocrisy, because every time I try to eat healthy I’m given a rude awakening in the form of junk food being doubly cheap and triply easy to cook than anything healthy. What’s even up with that? And then you’ve got exercising, seriously…the nearest gym is a good 25-minute walk away, and then you have to pay to get in, and you end up all sweaty, and people judge you all the time. How is that easy?
So since the world so obviously wants me gone, I guess I’ll just start planning my funeral right now. I’ve taken all that time I would’ve spent pointlessly running nowhere on the treadmill and used it to find my perfect Perth based funeral director. I have a few options. At first I was trying to appease my super liberal family- maybe some kind of sky funeral where my body is given to Mother Earth and then everyone has to participate in a tribal song and dance to commend my spirit to the halls of Gladness- but then I figured, I’ll be dead. It doesn’t really matter what I think, how I feel, what they think, how they feel, or anything really. That’s the truly fun thing about death: a lot of things suddenly don’t matter anymore. Not even eating salad! ESPECIALLY not eating salad.
You know, I went into McDoogles yesterday, all intent on having some kind of ultra-wholesome meal. The tofu salad option (which I would’ve had without dressing) was double the price of a cheeseburger. An animal died to make that cheeseburger! Although it’s McDoogle’s so even that’s suspect.
Ah, it doesn’t matter. I’ll do my research, pound the pavements of Perth, cremations are common place, Only then will I be able to live my life however I please. Treadmills, seriously…no thank you.