Awkward Things to do at a Funeral #4

 

Mortified

Over the course of the night, tell a series of embarrassing stories about yourself to everyone with whom you speak. They don’t have to be true, but try not to repeat yourself. Don’t bother to smoothly segue into them either, just abruptly change the subject whenever you have a chance.

Make sure to end each story with, “Oh my God, it was so embarrassing! I could just die!

The first few times you do this, you will probably get away with it, nobody will notice your unfortunate choice of words. Or if they do, they won’t think anything of it, it is a common expression, after all. However, every time you say this, you will be really loud and obnoxious about it, so that others can hear you too. When people you have spoken to earlier overhear you talking to others, they will begin to notice. Once you have passed a minimum threshold, a general consensus will emerge amongst the bereaved that you are an asshole.

 

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Awkward Things to do at a Funeral #3

 

The Proposal

 

You’ve been together for a while.  Long enough, anyhow, for her to ask you to accompany her to a family funeral.  You’ve dressed yourself up in your best suit and provide a sturdy shoulder to cry on.  After the ceremony, as family members gather together to share their fondest memories of the deceased, you get down on one knee and propose to your girlfriend.  Pick a moment where this can be seen by as many people as possible.

The Benefits :  If she says yes, you know you have a keeper.  If she’s willing to put up with you after this, you know you can get away with quite a bit.

Also : At your wedding, one side of the aisle will likely be pretty empty.   Her parents and siblings will attend of course, but many of her aunts, uncles, and cousins will likely boycott the ceremony out of disapproval for your dickish stealing of their dead relative’s thunder, and selfish disregard of their greif.  You will save money on catering.

 

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Awkward Things to do at a Funeral #1

 

The Other Woman

 

A gorgeous woman in her late twenties who attends the funerals of married men with money.  She doesn’t know any of these men personally, but finds out about the funerals through the obituary section of the newspaper.  She wears elegant black dresses which are conservative though flattering, and big dark sunglasses, regardless of the weather.  She talks to no one, and stays far away from other guests.  At open caskets she weeps audibly but also makes a visible attempt to restrain her tears.  She makes a conspicuous effort to avoid the widow. . .

 

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An Election Day Romantic Comedy in One Act

(HER walks through the door of the apartment located in the kitchen balancing a handbag and two chicken shawarmas in her hand.  HIM is reclining on a sofa in the adjoining living room in a ratty bathrobe, legs elevated by a stack of magazines upon the coffee table, video game controller in hand.  Her stares at Him in disbelief, the door swinging all the way open, keys still in the lock.)

(Him’s attention does not break away from the television screen.  The conversation is punctuated by the bleeps and bloops of the video game.)

HER: You’re still in your bathrobe.

HIM: Let’s order pizza, I’m hungry.  Where were you?

HER: I stopped on the way to vote.  You’re still in your bathrobe?

HIM: I’m in my bathrobe again.

HER: Did you at least remember to vote?

(Her walks to the kitchen counter which is covered in a thin layer of dirty dishes and empty pizza boxes.  With her free hand she moves some of detritus about, making a small clearing in front of her.)

HIM: I remembered. Didn’t vote, though.

HER: Why didn’t you vote? You have to vote!

HIM: Well, I was going to vote, so I left for the place, but I had plenty of time so I stopped for a beer.  For the first few, I drank and I didn’t vote.  After that, I couldn’t vote.  They don’t let you vote drunk.

(Her shakes her head and opens the cupboard, only to find one clean plate.)

HIM:  Is that shawarma?

(Her places one shawarma on a plate in front of her and tosses the other at him.)

HER: –It’s your civic duty!

HIM:  I shirk my duties all the time, you know that.  Look (pointing toward the sink), I said I’d do the dishes, and I didn’t do that either. (Looking away from the television screen for the first time, at her.)…Love you!

HER: What happens if that bastard wins?

HIM: Not in this riding. Everybody’s voting for the other one.  We’ll be fine.

HER: I can’t believe you didn’t vote.  It’s only, like, the most important thing you can do in a democracy.

(The game music speeds up.  Him stands up and leans toward the television, game controller held up close to his face, eyes staring intensely ahead while his fingers hammer at the buttons.)

HIM: Come on, it doesn’t matter.  One vote wouldn’t have changed anything.  It’s not like they needed a tie-breaker.

HER: What?  What if everybody thought like that? What if nobody voted?

(The game noises erupt into an epic victory-jingle akin to the 8-bit era.  Him raises his arms in a V, performs a celebratory hop, and puts the controller down on the sofa.)

HIM:  Oh, then I would vote.  Think of the power!