That's today's super inspiring, not at all creepy that organs are talking mantra on my yogi tea. I've been chugging yogi cold season teas all week as I slowly die from overexposure to life. Slash...a cold. What started as a smoker's cough (note: NOT induced by smoking) has now turned into full fledged chest caving in lungs filled with fluid head filled with fog full on death-bug. Which I'm sure everybody on the 4 hour plane ride home today will appreciate to no end. Also, I'm still scheduled to run/walk/seriously just walking a 10K on Monday. It's raising money for something I'm sure. But anyways, SO not ready for that. But I will persevere! (think, a gospel singing "We Shall Overcome!") I shall go forth into the lofty heights of Boulder, Colorado, and after having run 1 of the 6.2 miles that constitutes a 10K, I will slow my pace to a mere walk, so as to not spill the margarita that will surely be in my hand moments later. The race ends with a jog around the track in the CU stadium, as earlier finishers hang out in the stands, cheering and jeering. This will be especially good for me, as one of those rich Boulderites will be a doctor who can help when I go into cardiac arrest.
But since this is the end, and my tea has already decided to remove my heart from my body, it's only fitting that this post be dedicated to my own obituary, which I often like to update and refresh for when that fateful day soon arrives.
On the morning of May 27th, a small corner of the Denver Post will read thusly:
Here lies Denver Omlette. He was many things to many people. To some, he was a visionary of the written word. To others, a terrible speller. He saw the world out of the porthole of a leaky freighter, was a collector of memories and once interrupted a lecture at Harvard...oh wait that was Joe Pesci in With Honors. Actually, if he was alive he'd probably tell you, "Who the hell is Ankris? They spelled my name wrong!??! What the hell!" In that way, he was so poetic. His greatest achievement is that he has seen every episode of Criminal Minds and as such, felt he could have stopped a serial killer without even having to throw his coffee out the window BECAUSE THERE'S JUST NO TIME! He is survived by many friends and family, none of which seemed to have a $5 spot when people were collecting money for his funeral. His funeral was paid for by the Institute of De-Hybridization, where he had donated all his scratch off ticket cash winnings in order to find a way to separate the scariest hybrid animal ever to walk the earth, the Wolf-Spider. Let his death not be in vain. Note: A lawsuit is pending over his estate's wishes to bury him with his arms out of the ground, so that he could always scare anybody coming to the cemetery and pretend to be a zombie.