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Spread My Ashes At Sizzler

My two favorite restaurants as of now are Souplantation and Sizzler, I like them both for basically the same reason, a buffet. I like to choose my own food and choose the amount of food. I don't like telling people "Yes, you heard me correct, both the pasta and the steak." Souplantation is more of a salad bar and soup bar selection, while Sizzler basically signals your body that you have given up.  To each their own though. This was one of the final arguments my mom and I got into before she passed away. I thought it was logical to drive 45 minutes to the nearest Souplantation in Ventura County, and she suggested I hit up our local Sizzler. My mom had been paralyzed for the past five years, so she wasn't up to date with Sizzlers current state of affairs. I tried to explain to her that the nacho bar is not what it used to be and that I was better off trying to find a meal at Tori Spelling's house.

Her dying wish was for me to visit Sizzler, I think. It might have been for me to be a good person and to never forget her, but everything all happened so fast, so I might have mixed up her lunch order with her final will and testament.

She had requested that we spread her ashes at both Miramar Beach in Montecito as well as at the Palais-Royal in Paris. After we agreed, she changed her mind. "I also want Gracie and David to keep a little bit of my ashes with them, in a glass jar, right next to their beds." We did as she wished. We invited all my moms favorite people to come with us to the beach for a small ceremony, Andy Cohen sent his regrets. It was beautiful and devastating. David struggled for a moment to remove the ashes from the blue and white Chinoiserie vase she had chosen for herself. "Ah merde" The plastic bag holding her new form of a body had gotten tangled inside the vase, David had to manually remove her. It was much less graceful than we had imagined, but the final end result was the same. Her ashes were placed in front of the beach front hotel that was undergoing a renovation. She would have been thrilled to watch their progress, subtly critiquing their choices through a series of otherworldly signs and voices haunting their thoughts. She told me that she was going to haunt me and watch me have sex, so I was relived that she would be distracted with her new day job.

David and I made our way back to Paris together via LAX, which meant an interaction with the fine men and women of the TSA. "Why don't you check her?" I noticed David had my mom in his carry on, "She's gonna get confiscated." She didn't get confiscated, but I think all three of us might have been put on a do not fly list.

I started to notice, that the life and death of my mom, were anything but ordinary. This was realized when I asked someone what happens to breast implants when you get cremated, and if they were reusable. I was met with a look of disgust, but tried to justify my inquiry. "But what if you only reuse them within the family?" This was entirely reasonable in my head, not to mention, economical. I learned that these were not normal topics of discussion and actually my life was not normal. Not in the slightest.

So, I wrote a book. When I learned that my mom was diagnosed with ALS, I thought it was a sexually transmitted disease and then I wondered if it was contagious. I had no idea what I was in store for and that the way we reacted was not typical. I think we acted entirely appropriate, but my morals are questionable, especially after Tequila.
I hope this book will help you laugh and maybe make you cry, but if I can achieve one thing from this book, I want people to understand ALS. My mom was able to give a pretty clear vision of what she was dealing with on the regular basis and also how to style a 14th century gilded mirror. But, I think she really gained a dedicated group of readers when she opened up about her struggles and was able to laugh at how ridiculous this all was. I wrote the book to continue her story and hope of all of you will still follow it.

I thought I would use her platform here for myself now. I'll be updating everyone on the book, what's happening at the moment and also what I ate for lunch, here on her blog from now on.

Death had become a major topic in my mind, sometimes I'm scared of the unknown and other times I plan my own funeral. I have the song picked out and I have my do not invite list all ready. But I don't know where I want my ashes to be spread. All I know is I do not want to be buried because I've seen Kill Bill and being buried alive has secured itself the number one fear spot on my top fears list, followed closely by snakes and tripping on Black Friday.

Just recently, I finally visited a Sizzler, or as the locals call it, "The Siz." I was immediately welcomed by not only a young brunette named Carol, but also the overwhelming scent of melted Kraft singles and black olives. It was at this Sizzler that I experienced true happiness. I was not judged by my nacho tower or my third and fourth trip back to the buffet, but was welcomed with open arms. The sheer amount of food was enough to satisfy me but I was graciously surprised when I found the quality was on par with the quantity. It felt like home, in the sense that everyone was shouting over the Classic Rock station and no one used a fork.
I left wearing a pair of New Balances and telling Carol to "spread my ashes at Sizzler."