oh lawd

yeah, there are locks, but we’re open on saturdays for regular business hours and it’s my day to cover office hours, but I was just sitting here 10 feet away from the door in the office while she was yelling because she decided to not venture any further into the funeral home to see if anyone was in here.

if I went anywhere in the funeral home other than the office, like upstairs or downstairs where I couldn’t monitor the front doors, I’d lock it so they’d have to ring the buzzer to get in.

and my apartment door would be very, very, very difficult to accidentally stumble on if you were just walking around the funeral home. it’s seriously like some secret annex anne frank shit.

this lady dressed in rags just walked into the funeral home off the street and just started screaming “HELLO? HELLOOOO?? HELLOOOO? HELLO?”

like, the office is 10 feet from the doors. I didn’t feel like dealing with it so I didn’t say anything back because we only get weird beggars or people looking to borrow chairs on saturdays. or she could have been a vampire waiting for me to invite her in all the way, so again, the safest bet was to just let her stand in the entry way and scream until she went away.

omg

and I just wanna open it so that I can “subsidize” it for my own personal laundry use, but then they’d know I opened it because I never do the fucking laundry unless I’m getting something out of it.

also RIP Billy Mays.

totally should say “have you boned a funeral director today?”

ratticus:

A Certain Kind of Death (2003)

This is definitely not the documentary to be watching while attempting to eat a sandwich. In my personal experience, I was overcome with a feeling of discord and anxiety. Something I’ve only felt once before in my entire life. It was one day I had stayed home from school for having the chicken pox for the second time. I watched Alive with my mother, that afternoon. She had made me those frozen chicken nuggets for lunch…

Long story short, the sandwich won. This documentary will have to wait another day.

you should definitely watch the rest of it. it’s pretty good. although, in my opinion, it drags a little in some parts.

imagine doing this stuff and THEN eating your sandwich. you kind of have to learn to just get over it, though, or else you’ll starve to death. however, i still wash my hands very, very well before eating.

thanks for checking this wreck out. I’ll look at your blog tonight when I have some time!

haha, also I don’t think it has anything to do with differences between the US and the UK, which is why I don’t post any personal information about myself, or full pictures of myself (except that one time on accident and that one time on purpose for a few hours).

no this is me and i’m only into one thing:

gothic girls

lol email me or come off anon. don’t be so shy.

maybe, although dead people don’t really smell like that unless they’ve been autopsied and you’re in the room with them and they’re cut open still. or, organ/tissue donors who have a large portion of skinless “meat” exposed before being treated by an embalmer.

there’s tons of smells i don’t know about either. we’ll never know what the smell possibly could have been unless we were in the room with the anon smelling it.

have any pictures of your scientific illustration class work? sounds cool.

there’s a part in Mary Roach’s book, Stiff, where she’s asking two mortuary students why they chose funereal work, and she writes, “No matter what they say, the answer never quite satisfies.”

and it’s really true. i could give a ton of different answers, and my answer is always a little different every time i get this question, but i’ll get it for as long as i’m in this business, because people always want an answer, and really, there isn’t one. at least not for me. i could say that i want to help people, but i suppose i was doing that as an english teacher before this, or i could say that working with people in times of real need and grief is what i’m after, but i could work with disaster services or social work.

so it always comes back to the question of the dead. i just like working with dead people. i dont like it because it’s weird, although i realize that it is…and i don’t know why i do. I just “do.” i don’t get off on it, i don’t think everybody should do it, i understand people’s hang-ups, there are days where it’s disgusting, but i just like it.

but that still doesn’t answer the question for you, and it doesn’t answer it for myself either. i don’t know why i got into it. “it never quite satisfies.”

The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in ‘68,
And he told me all romantics meet the same fate someday: 
Cynical and drunk and boring someone in some dark cafe.
“You laugh,” he said, “you think you’re immune, go look at your eyes
They’re full of moon.
You like roses and kisses and pretty men to tell you
All those pretty lies, pretty lies
When you gonna realize they’re only pretty lies
Just pretty lies, just pretty lies”

yeah are you hot and rich

my first thought was mormon too, haha. never heard of it, though, and i’m running on 3 hours of sleep total over two nights so i’m not even going to google and just wing it then take a nap and see what i wake up to…my best guess would be underwear that’s sold by funeral homes to families who don’t bring underwear when they bring clothes to dress bodies in. as if dead people actually really need underwear. or clothes. or a viewing. or a pillow. whatever.

it could also be a really weird name that i’ve never heard for the plastic undergarments used to protect against leakage during a viewing, but that’s a really far-out guess.

maybe morbiddesires or anubisinasuit or any others in the funeral home gallery want to help?