…or perhaps this post should be titled, “This is the post that results when my readers e-mail to tell me what they want, what they really, really, want.”
First of all, let’s give a hand to Barrister Mobutu Sese-Seko. I, for one, truly appreciate him taking time out of his horrendously busy schedule bilking old people for their pension checks to help tie up a few loose ends around here concerning Those Hit Generating Schemes That Shall Not Be Named. So thank you Barrister, may you have long life and health in whatever third world hellhole you are practicing your art of scammery from.
Secondly! This is where I answer this guy’s and this other guy’s questions about the tuberculosis. Yes, I was really, truly, actually exposed to TB. I’m taking pills for it until September (originally my doc recommended nine months but recently reduced my sentence to six.) No alcohol, processed cheeses, raw sushi, aspirin, hookers, Malawi nationals or anything more fun than red flavored Jell-O until I’m done with the meds.
You read that right. No alcohol. And it’s only April. Don’t come near me or I’ll stomp on your toes.
Thirdly, I can’t be the only participant in the 2008 Northern California Invitational Celebrity Death Prognostication Challenge who was absolutely pissed to read this.
Fourthly, I would like to publicly thank Blondie for sending me a link for a local freelance job writing web copy for a Davis-based company that makes eco-friendly burial containers. I submitted my resume last week and if I somehow manage to land the contract I’m sooo sending you a bottle of wine.
Fifthly, I would like to whore Jay out. Again. Just because he whores me out so much and I fear a breach in our informal mutual pimping agreement might result in bad juju.
Sixthly, I would like to thank Cranky Prof for being so cranky. And professorial. I love you. And your blog.
Seventhly, an update on the funeral sciences program. Life has been busy on the back forty of American River College where the FSE headquarters are housed in the Winchester Mystery Trailer. We’ve quizzed. We’ve tested. We’ve grilled our professors for gory details about stuff like purge, skin slip, and anal leakage. We’ve covered areas of the funeral business in deliciously gruesome detail that makes the Faces of Death people look like amateurs.
…we’ve even moved bodies around. Ok, not real bodies… fake ones. Like the mortician’s equivalent to those plastic dummies that you practice CPR on.
Classes have been great, especially considering that I’ve spent the entire semester sitting next to the Men of Mortuaries calendar boy Mr. February. No joke.
So anyway, Mr. February is an apprentice embalmer in San Francisco and has more good death industry stories than you could shake a dismembered arm at. Oh, and he also does a mean cha-cha with our program’s permanent resident, Senor Esqueleto:
Need I say more? This semester’s been the best time I’ve had in school since starting Kindergarten as a wee Death Lass.