Consider this my advance directive. I want to be buried with my awesome travel mug. It came from Starbucks, but I don’t hold that against it. I call it Edward because it is cold and sparkly on the outside, but it makes me all warm on the inside. Chew on that, haters.
Okay, technically, it’s my husband’s cup. But if he’s burying his wife, what kind of selfish turd would he look like if he refused a little request like a coffee mug?
I was going to be cremated, but this cup weighs something like two pounds. When my ashes are scattered in Matanzas Bay, I would hate for that heavy chunk of melted metal to fall out of the sky and kill manatee or a mermaid.
So please, please bury me with it. Please. But not until I’m dead. Thanks!