February 4, 2008
Just the facts, ma'am.
Dad’s obituary has run in all the proper places. Thank goodness that part is over. Rather than being a celebration of life, newspapers force you to make obituaries dry and flavorless, like a life without ketchup. It’s ridiculous that families must pay hundreds of dollars to reduce a love one’s life to so many lines full of the same old, same old. He went to school here, she married at this age, he did community service, she won an award. They’re both dead, and it doesn’t seem to be a horrible loss to the universe, because they both appeared to be pretty damn boring.

I’m not an exciting woman, what with my Tivod Dead Zone and cheap wine purchases, but I do hope that someday my obituary reads better than a 1040 tax form.

Kris Likey, researcher, blogger, defender of animals and the social contributions of the Ghost Whisperer

Kris Likey of Washington, DC passed away this morning after an extended episode of writer’s block. She was 34.

Likey was born and raised in Northern New Jersey, and thinks you should be ashamed for making a “What exit?” joke as you read this. She and her family lived overseas during her formative years; during a stay in London as a five year old, Likey first played doctor with a boy with whom she’d later graduate a New Jersey high school. During her travels, she discovered that although an unfriendly people, the French make amazing pastries and ham and cheese baguettes, while the Belgians clearly got the nice genes. Likey was a popular and well-rounded high school student for whom that all ended in 1991, when she graduated with a basket full of dreams and unachievable aspirations, including spending time at the Peach Pit with Brandon Walsh. Throughout these years Likey displayed a strange preoccupation with Duraflame logs.

Despite her love of the city, culture, and a decent slice of pizza, Likey decided to attend school in rural bumf*ck Virginia. She graduated in 1995 with a degree in both psychology and bitterness, the same year she moved to Arlington to begin a life of city snobbery and attendance at Weight Watchers meetings. After several years of fulfilling DC research work and equally unfulfilling sexual experiences, Likey moved south in the late 90s to begin accumulating 1 million credit hours in her pursuit of a doctorate in clinical psychology. She did not complete the degree, but does own a brick at Florida State University bearing her name, an achievement she was known to describe as “same diff.” During her tenure in Tallahassee, Likey moved six times; at her death, she was known to despise most every individual with whom she’d ever shared a group house.

Likey loathed elitism, poorly-behaved children, her cell phone, Forrest Gump, animal haters, and wintertime darkness. She loved waking up in a foreign country, the feel of an expensive wine glass in her hand, the magnificence of both Easy Cheese and smoked Gouda, Coach bags, the warmth of the Gulf, and a really good murder. Sadly, Likey was most proud of two high school writing awards, overcoming her fear of organized sports, and a tiny Web site she began in 2005 to regale others with tales of cat leg amputation and drinking wine in her tub. Friends report her greatest regret was never owning her own fountain soda machine.

Likey is survived by her mother, J, amazing bargain shopper and recent Josh Brogan convert as well as a sister, K, remarkable chili maker and writer who Likey recently forgave for being the chosen one. Likey was mother to two cats: Bug, Tallahassee native and recipient of the first feline prosthetic leg, and Cricket, well-known socialite and Lindsay Lohan party pal. Likey is predeceased by her father, D, grillmaster and lover of all things Simon and Garfunkel. Although she does not believe in an afterlife, if there is one she hopes her father's secured an amazingly large television for football watching purposes.

A private memorial service will be held, complete with disco ball, open bar, and Taco Bell burrito supremes. Kris Likey requested that in lieu of flowers, someone break into her apartment to remove her vibrator before her mother goes through all of her stuff.


29 Comments:

Blogger Jorge said...

I'll get the SWAT team on the vibrator.

Or better yet, Airport Security on your way up here for your next trip.

Blogger Reid said...

I never knew that about you hating Forrest Gump. It makes me like you even more.

Blogger Karen said...

Very entertaining.

Blogger Sizzle said...

you're totally right though...obits should celebrate not just state the stale facts of one's life. this was really entertaining in spite of the subject matter. :)

Blogger WildbillthePirate said...

I'd much rather see the sentence(s)added: Kris married at age 35, and while never having any children of her own "I'm too busy!" she absolutely spoiled her neices & nephews, and was known for sneaking them Candy Bars whenever ahe could. Her Husband, M, said that she was "a joyful person filled with the Love of Life and had spoiled him for all other women."

Blogger WildbillthePirate said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

Blogger Alexandra said...

That was wonderfully funny!

I have been forced to write obtuaries for my beloved father-in-law - my life loving grandmother - and my younger sister who died 60 years too early at the tender age of 36. I like yours most of all.

It cost the family quite a bit of money to publish my sister's obit...but I just couldn't reduce her vibrant life to a stale story of whom she married when, her children's names, and what schools she attended. It was a most irreverent (especially for Salt Lake City) but all too brief story of a young woman who died before her time leaving her loving family shattered. I wore a violet colered dress to her funeral, and asked that anyone attending wear their brightest colors so that we could send her off properly. She would have been 39 today.

Your stories make me laugh, make me cry, and touch me deeply. Thank you!

Peace be with you in your time of heartache.

Blogger Gunfighter said...

Do you think we might be able to have some cripy tacos at the memorial service, as well as the burritos???

Blogger Raz said...

I'm not saying I want you dead, but I would like to attend your funeral.

Blogger Raz said...

Oh, and I watched Forrest Gump last week because my mother told me it was good. It wasn't.

Blogger Chantel said...

My daughter watches Forest Gump to torture me.

Blogger MereCat said...

FAR more appropriate. And there you go, changing the world one obituary at a time.

Blogger Kelly said...

You love waking up in a foreign country, with a glass of wine in your hand! That is some seriously mad skills, Mama. I always drop my glass when I fall asleep.

You are wonderfully awesome.

And how scary would that be if our parental units went into our room to collect our things, and go into The Drawrer? How embarassing! (Our ghosts would have to be there to explain what the bunny ears are for...)

Blogger Paige Jennifer said...

Awesome as always - writer's block my ass (and as you've seen, it's quite an ass).

I had a local guy friend who in the 90's was my go-to cleaner.

"Mourn all you want but only after you clean out the bottom drawer by my bed," I said in between sips of a killer cosmo.

"Ditto - but for me, Computer," he said before taking a long drag of his cigarette and letting the smoke escape before finishing the instruction. "And just drop the sucker form the roof of my building. You'd never have enough time to clean the hard drive."

Blogger Washington Cube said...

A friend had a really good obituary for his mother in the Post this past year, where the headline read "intrepid." I thought, "How do you get intrepid" into an obit, and "very clever" and what a great send-off.

Your obit was a hoot. And let me tell ya...having cleared out houses of deceased relatives. No joking about the vibrator. If you've got something in your home you would never want anyone to find? Get rid of it immediately. Like the pouch of nudies photos in your workbench from that work weekend in London where instead of attending a conference apparently you were filming nude "models" in Soho. Or leaving a "bushy beavers" icon on your computer. Think outside the box, before you are IN the box.

Blogger Debbie said...

can you write mine?

Blogger Alison said...

I'm with sizzle and debbie on this.

Thanks for the laughs, and my thoughts go out to you.

Blogger shannon said...

Your sense of humor is back. Glad to see you're fighting through it.

It's ok to be sad though. You don't have to entertain us every day, ya know?

Blogger Ashley said...

can i hire you to write mine? i never imagined i could laugh like that at an obit.

but you're right, most of them do no justice to the life they are describing.

Blogger KB said...

hahahaha!!! :) I love it. You only have one vibrator, though? WTF? :)

Blogger Deana said...

I love this - "displayed a strange preoccupation with Duraflame logs".

Blogger JordanBaker said...

One of my old professors wrote his own obituary, and instead of "departed this life" or something like that, he had it say "rejoined with the cosmos." That one phrase simultaneously encapsulates everything I loved and everything I hated about that man.

Blogger Laurie said...

This was great, Kris - just the perfect capper to a crappy Monday. Loving paragraph four especially.

Blogger Michele said...

A great read, and much more interesting than the usual obits. I love the last paragraph the best.

Blogger Whiskeymarie said...

Best obit ever. And sadly, I read the obits a lot, for whatever reason.

You need a picture though, the best ones always have pictures.

Blogger Blue said...

Please write mine just like yours and underline the vibrator part, ok?

You are a rock star!

Blogger Weighting Game said...

very funny, witty, clever...makes me wish I were friends with you! Keep on keeping on...

Blogger gorillabuns said...

I agree with Whiskey - you need a great Glamour Shots picture complete with rhinestones and sparkles - maybe with a cheezy cowgirl hat.

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