My Millennial Funeral
I’m obvi not #dead yet, but planning my funeral is v important to me, content-wise.
Please arrange a wake, but call it a “woke.”
Do not use a hearse to transport my body. Place me in the back of an Uber where I belong.
The funeral should be held on a Thursday so the #TBT pics on display feel on brand.
Photos of me used around the venue must be selfies with more than 200 Instagram likes, or why even bother?
The memorial should not take place in a church, but at my favorite rooftop bar — the one with frosé and that one hot bartender who can’t remember my name.
After any prayer, please shout “YOLO” instead of “amen.”
Anything you post should include #SheLiterallyCantEvenAnymore, followed by the crying emoji. 😭 Still tag me in everything!
For the service, the front row is reserved for my family; the second row is for my closest friends; and the third row is for all the Tinder men who went down on me. Everyone else, please make a reservation on OpenTable.
While last year’s funeral theme was “all the feels,” this year’s will just be “lowkey grief.”
Dress code is day-drinking chic meets smart-casual mourning.
The casket should be rose-gold with the phrase As I Slay Dying across the front.
The casket must also be open (no matter how I died) so it’s easier for my friends to pose me for a Boomerang.
If mercury is not in retrograde, technically, I should still be alive.
My head and neck should be slathered in all my remaining expensive face serums so they don’t go to waste.
Hire a make-up artist who will do a YouTube tutorial of my mortuary makeover.
Mold all of my T.J. Maxx candles into one large candle to burn during the event.
Attendees must read their favorite tweets I wrote in the last three years, or risk being literally ghosted by me.
There should be a raffle to see who inherits my Netflix, Hulu, HBO, Amazon and Showtime passwords. When a winner is chosen, hand them a sheet of paper that just says “LOL” because no one should be enjoying anything right now!!!!!
As part of the service, my married BFFs should ceremoniously divvy up and transfer my dating-app accounts so they can continue to “swipe for fun” and “live vicariously” through me.
Brunch will be served, but attendees cannot partake if they weren’t completely extra in their crying.
I’ll be having major FOMO during the event, so — while my life should be celebrated and glorified — please do not go over the top putting the “fun” in “funeral” or the “lit” in “mortality.”
Play Beyoncé on repeat until I am lowered into the ground, and then make sure there are speakers in the dirt.
100% make my funeral go viral so I can become an afterlife influencer.
On my grave, just write “it me.”
Get my iPhone battery down to 0% so it dies in tandem.
Bury me with my dead houseplants for aesthetic.