...I go and post this little gem:
I wrote an obituary for a coffeemaker today. No, you didn't read wrong. An obituary for a coffeemaker. Just writing those words is strange.
My father called me this morning and told me there'd been a death in the family. I was immediately concerned, until he said that the unfortunately deceased was Mr. Coffee, his beloved coffeemaker. Yeah, I said "beloved coffeemaker". For some bizarre reason, my father was incredibly attached to this stupid coffeemaker that should have been put out to pasture about 10 years ago (at least). He had it for 17 years--a $10 coffeemaker lasted 17 years. It was so bottom-of-the-barrel cheap it didn't even have a clock or an auto-start. My father even went so far as to splice a new plug onto it in a Dr. Frankenstein-esque surgery (okay, surgeries--this thing really wanted to die but he kept it on life-support). He took his "body" parts from a lamp. I have no idea why I'm doing this but here is the obituary I wrote:
Requiem for a Coffeemaker Suddenly, on Saturday, January 20, 2007, Coffeemaker, 17, affectionately known to his friends as “Mr. Coffee” died after 17 years of loyal service to Ron and Mary Smith. It came as a great shock to Mr. and Mrs. Smith as they had done everything in their power to resuscitate him. He struggled to remain in service to his faithful employers, and endured several surgeries, including multiple cord transplants. In his later years, Mr. Coffee began to slow down, even though the demand for his services did not decline. The children of Mr. and Mrs. Smith urged their parents to force Mr. Coffee to retire, but they knew that if they made him retire, he would die for certain. It is estimated that Mr. Coffee provided 17, 500 pots of coffee to the Smiths; he warmed many a cold morning, perked up many a tired eye, and was the centerpiece of many family gatherings. Mr. Smith, who was closest to Mr. Coffee, has said that he doesn’t know how he will go on without his faithful companion. “We’ve been through so much together.” He said. “No one has been there for me like my buddy Mr. Coffee.” Further comments were inaudible due to Mr. Smith’s sobbing. Mrs. Smith added: “We just thought he would live forever. Even when I wasn’t drinking coffee, it was comforting to know he was there.” His replacement, a Gevalia model, said, “I have some big cups to fill and I hope I can be as good a coffeemaker as Old Mr. Coffee was. He was an inspiration to me.” Friends and family were always amazed at Mr. Coffee’s persistence and perseverance, as he lived far beyond his expected life span. At the family’s request, an autopsy was performed. Preliminary reports suggest that Mr. Coffee suffered a fatal myopumpial infarction and he died of pump failure. Funeral arrangements are pending, though Mr. and Mrs. Smith have said that in honor of Mr. Coffee’s passing, they will only be serving tea at the wake. Friends and family are encouraged to send their condolences and to share their memories of Mr. Coffee by calling or emailing the bereaved. In lieu of flowers, the family suggests sending Starbucks gift cards.
Footnote: A rep for the Coffee Growers Association sent the following statement:
“In honor of our dear departed friend, Mr. Coffee, a roast will be held in Colombia. Juan Valdez will be officiating. Tributes by Mssrs. Maxwell House and Folgers are planned. The roast is expected to be Chock Full of Nuts. It is tentatively scheduled for Saturday, January 27, 2007 at 8 O’Clock.”
So if you've ever wondered why I'm so odd, now you know. This is what I grew up with. (Yes, it's okay to laugh at me. I know I have problems. My therapist says another 5 years of therapy and I'll be cured!) At least I was able to convince Dad not to publish the obit in the local paper. I used to dream that I was a princess who had been kidnapped from her real parents, the King and Queen of Someplace Exotic. Now you know why.
Pretty Damn Funny...
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