Monday, March 2, 2009


When I moved to North Carolina, I had to get my drivers' license switched over to my address here. I had to take the written test and surprised myself when I passed it. So as I am picking out my license background and giving Mr. DMV some big lie about how much I actually weigh, he asks me, "Would you like to be an organ donor?"

"Sure! What organs do you want"

Unsaid verbally, but definitely said by his look, "You're an idiot"

So I press on, "I mean, heart disease runs in my family, so I don't want to donate a faulty heart. However, I work out and don't smoke so my lungs are PRISTINE!"

His blank stare now nonverbally responds, "You're an even bigger idiot than I thought".

Finally, he says (his face never even cracking), "I don't know, you don't get to choose. Do you want to be an organ donor or not?"

So finally, a little embarrassed, I agree to be an organ donor. I'm not feeling completely good however about someone pilfering through my organs like they are going on a treasure hunt at the local Salvation Army store. A doctor who has seen one too many livers, picks up mine and says, "Alright, I think we can use this...size is good, color is good, this could work" and then picks up part of my intestines and makes a wise crack to his assistant who is cataloging my parts, "Dang, how many cheese burgers or Bojangle biscuits have passed through this baby; the only thing this baby's good for is to hook up to my spiggot and hose down my car!"

How. Humiliating.

On the other hand, I'm always complimented on my I can imagine a couple of people fighting over my eyes. Maybe they would be like the Louis Vuitton of organ donations... only the most "In" people have "Eyes by Serene"! If they could use the pancreas (mine surely is clean), leg muscles (I can definitely kick the crap out of something!) or even stomach (does ANYTHING make me sick?) then we'd really be getting somewhere!

Too bad I can't donate those intangibles, such as sense of style. Immediately after my death, a doctor performs a stylectomy and a woman with a closet full of mom jeans and tennis shoes
waits expectantly for her new "Serene Style" to be delivered and implanted. Hopefully her body won't reject it, the antirejection drug, in this case, are pointy toe, kitten heel shoes. But if she makes it through that, she can look forward to a long life of pointing to little black dresses, exclaiming, "LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it!!!! and getting absolutely giddy at the sight of a little floral skirt and strappy sandals! If the transplant has REALLY taken hold...she will find herself getting lightheaded at the mere mention of Louis Vuitton. She may even find herself, crossing herself in good Catholic fashion whenever she passes a Valentino boutique.

Another love of music! Once again, the doctor removes it from my lifeless body and somewhere in Montana is a woman who has never turned on a radio, and upon her "Serene's Music" implant, she suddenly starts belting out, "I'm every woman, it's all in me....anything ya want done baby.....I'll do it naturalleeee, whoa, whoa, whooooaa....". She finds herself frantically searching her heretofore unused car radio for Barry White and Earth Wind and Fire! Strangest of all, car dancing comes completely natural for her now. You know car dancing right? It's when you hear a great song while you're driving in your car and you start waving your arms and dancing right there in the driver's seat. (*Disclaimer: Professional Car not attempt). Yep...I can see it already....when I go, there will certainly be PLENTY of people who have alot of fun in store!!

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