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Today, 8 months prior to turning 30, I think I finally graduate from the 'Baby's first...' book.
Given - I never had one as I was the second child, and nobody cares, lets play along!

Today it all came to an end with 'Baby's first Will'

That's right folks, now that I have a company, house and lame grown up stuff like a Jimny (I will leave it to the sinking sand of Weston Super-Mare, as nobody will want it), I have been advised to Will my way dead (because everyone wants to be told what to do by a dead person who can't be argued with). Ucenter Dress latest graduation wears chic style

NOTE: I thought this was humorous and when transcribing this through google, i was interrupted with the number of the good Samaritans and told I was not alone.
Preface: i was not alone... Jared might die too and is my co-will buddy. But OK GOOGLE can only handle so much.

It was all fine and dandy until the question of 'how would you like to be disposed of' came up.
Burial is not for me. I was dug into a beach once (mermaid tail sand sculpture, stupid shell bra on sand titties and all the bells and whistles) and i didn't like it. Plus nothing good happens 6 feet under, case and point, that Frizel guy who put Austria on the map.

Cremation seemed like the 'hot' choice, but what then? I'm no Bob Dylan, and the answer doesn't matter when you're the one blowin' in the wind.

Being the only two options, I'd like to know from everyone how they would like to subscribe to the laws of Entropy and break down? Comment below. If you have read this far. Do it. Before I put it in my will and and you have to.

I'm personally a fan of becoming a coral reef (see my thesis).
Cremate me, plant me in a concrete pot and catapult me onto the reef to grow some coral (they love a good human substrate oddly, minus the bleach).

Second place would be a more immediate sustenance... for the hungry critters we have wronged so thoroughly.
My idea goes like this:
Put my body in a bridesmaid dress (Specifically) on an ice-flow off of nova scotia and float me toward the starving Michael Moore- Al Gore Polar Bears who need a few carcasses on their decreasing territories, and who film crew will give all their time and patience to, but inconveniently, no food.
It would be the ultimate Viking Burial, sans the blood eagles or flaming arrows.

Alternatively, I'd like to be a mushroom farm.
Bury me in the woods and wait for the most extraordinary shitake mushrooms to grow. Sell them to the jerks who eat rhino horn and think turtles are great keychains.

I ain't no easy vegetable main.

This would however necessitate a funeral, in which I would have everyone come up, recite their favourite limerick and carry me out on the most ridiculous pall-bearer trampoline that poured shots of tequila for everyone who double-bounced.