When I die (and yes, Melissa, that day will come; and yes, Melissa, everything’s in your name), I want my funeral to be a huge show biz affair with lights, cameras, action. I want Craft services. I want paparazzi. I want publicists making a scene! I want it to be Hollywood all the way. I don’t want some rabbi rambling on; I want Meryl Streep crying, in five different accents. I don’t want a eulogy; I want Bobby Vinton to pick up my head and sing “Mr. Lonely.” I want to look gorgeous, better dead than I do alive. I want to be buried in a Valentino gown and I want Harry Winston to make me a toe tag. And I want a wind machine so that even in the casket my hair is blowing like Beyoncé’s.
Joan rivers ∞♡ I miss you
THERE IS SUCH A FUCKING PROBLEM WITH THE EDUCATION SYSTEM WHEN STUDENTS ARE IN TEARS EVERY SINGLE NIGHT AND WAKE UP EVERY SINGLE MORNING WANTING TO THROW UP AT THE THOUGHT OF GETTING OUT OF BED WHILE THINKING THAT THEY’D RATHER BE DEAD THAN GO TO SCHOOL
eleven thousand people can relate to this post. that’s not okay.