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.