Box or Vase? I Can't Decide.

My Mother Is Either a Comic Genius or Bat-Shit Insane

This morning, as I drowsily sipped my coffee and opened my email, I got the living daylights scared out of me when the first thing I saw was the subject line "Donna Lynn Sorenson Obituary".

Turns out my Mom is not, in fact, dead. Nor is she dying.

The message was my mother sending the obituary she has written for herself out to all five of her children.

Because it's written in the past tense, I find reading it to be mind-bogglingly creepy.

In this obituary, my mother, a former English teacher, misspelled her own first name.

She also had this to say about it, "I tried to keep it somewhat short since every word "costs"--always the bargain-hunter 'til the end!"

Either this is the best practical joke she's ever pulled, or she is out of her fucking mind. And as the universe is my witness, I have utterly no idea which it is.

What A Way To Go

For as long as I can remember, my father said he wanted to die as a result of being hit by a semi-truck full of toilet seats and be found with one around his neck. (Dad always was the sophisticated sort.)

Alas, when we buried him, my family could not be convinced to fulfill this wish of his. So in tribute, I thought I'd share this homage to his final wish that I created some years ago. I give you ...

Death By Toilet Seat


I sent him this photo back when I first created it with nothing else in the envelope. He called me laughing so hard I could barely understand him. I think his exact words were, "what the hell is this, you son of a bitch?"

Rest in peace, Dad.