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Pretty much every weekend this summer has been a total bust for me, and damnit, it’s not my fault. With a few minor exceptions, the best part of each week finds me IMing or calling everyone I know to see if they’re going to be in town. Typically, the resounding answer is “Oh sorrrrry, I’m going to the Hamptons.”

Well you know what? If you go to the Hamptons on the weekends during the summer, you are now officially lame. Yes, you belong to the elite club of the throngs of people that still think rollin’ on E is cool (or even know what it means). You rent a house with 15 other people and still have to pay 2 grand for the summer just to see some guidos try to hit on girls who are out of their league. Meanwhile, the girls use the guys for free drinks and then go pop some pills and makeout with all the losers dancing to glow-stick music…and we all know how I feel about glowstick “music.”

That being said, I have never actually been to the Hamptons. Why would I go? I’m too cool for it. WAY too cool. What do I do on my weekends during the summer? Well it usually consists of going to Central Park or if it’s a bit rainy, going to the movies. Come night-time I’ll go grab a beer somewhere chill with all the other people who are just too cool for the Hamptons. I also like to eat hot dogs. If I went to the Hamptons I bet I couldn’t even get a hot dog:

Andy: Excuse me, sir?

Guy: Yes?

Andy: I’ll have one hot dog.

Guy: Um…I don’t have any-

Andy: With some mustard

Guy: I don’t have any.

Andy: What?

Guy: I was just saying, I don’t have any hot dogs.

Andy: Why not?

Guy: I’m a lifeguar-

Andy: Well I don’t see you guarding too many lives right now. Go get me a hot dog!

Guy: It’s not my job!

Andy: But I’ll die if I don’t get one, and you have to save me from dying.

Guy: Oh that’s ridiculous, no one dies from not eating a hot dog.

Andy: I haven’t eaten in 18 days. I will die of starvation if I don’t have a hot dog soon.

Guy: Look, you obviously have eaten recently, you have a marinara stain on your shorts. You also don’t look the least bit tired or emaciated.

Andy: Fine, if you don’t make me a hot dog I am going to drown myself. What kind of place is this that doesn’t have hot dogs?

Guy: It’s a beach! I’m sure if you just walked a few hundred yards up to the–

Andy: I am not walking anywhere!

Guy: Well you can’t bother me all day – I have lives to save!

Andy: That’s funny, looking around just now I only see one person who has a need to fear death, and that, my friend, is you.

Guy: Ugh. Now you’re going to kill me if I don’t get you a hot–

*BANG*

Andy: I hate the Hamptons.

Let this be a warning to lifegaurds and Hampton-goers everywhere: ALWAYS carry hot dogs with you. Maybe you can find a way to infuse them with the stuff in glow sticks and just wave those around at your crappy euro-trash dance clubs. I’m sure it’ll impress all the beautiful people.

If you need to find me, I’ll be in Central Park, being too awesome for the likes of you.

Before I get started with this no doubt terrific post, I’d like to apologize to the people who were around when this idea originated. This will seem like old material to them. But since its new to you, anonymous reader, I’m posting it for your sake. Also, I know I’ve covered the subject of my death before, but I didn’t go into any details about the actual funeral.

After discussing various possible mental calamaties indicated by what can only be appropriately titled as “brain pain,” the subject of funerals arose. Typically, talking about funerals is a sad state of affairs, but when you’re drinking Tecate, nothing is a sad state of affairs.* Anyway, it came up that a funeral would be best if hosted as a huge drinking jamboree. Your friends show up, you’re there (albeit unable to make typical party rounds), and everyone just gets blitzed and has a blast.

Naturally, being someone who loves having a good time I concurred with this statement. Then I began thinking about what my funeral would be like all around – who would be there, what they’d talk about, what they’d do – if I were to die tomorrow:

(The scene is only a bit somber and a disco ball and colored lights bask the room making it reminiscent of a senior prom. There are a few kegs setup and the early funeral-comers are taking advantage of it.)

Friend 1: Wow, I can’t believe Andy is dead.
Friend 2: Yeah I know. I also can’t believe the babysitter is dead.
Friend 1: What?
Friend 2: You know, that old movie with Christina Applegate?
Friend 1: Total babe.
Friend 2: Babe-a-licious.
Friend 1: Babester.
Friend 2: Babe-aroni.
Friend 1: So how did she die?
Friend 2: What?
Friend 1: The babysitter, how did she die?
Friend 2: …dude, I JUST said I was referring to that old movie with Christina Applegate.
Friend 1: Man, she’s hot.
Friend 2: Totally.
Friend 1: It’s too bad she died.
Friend 2: …what?
Friend 1: Christina Applegate, it’s too bad she died.
Friend 2: …what is wrong with you?
Friend 1: Oh it’s nothing, I just twisted my ankle. So this party is pretty cool, right?
Friend 2: Yeah it is, there are some SMOKIN’ babes here!**
Friend 1: Definitely. But I was looking over Andy’s will stipulations about how the party should go. And I’m cool with the pin-the-tail on the donkey, and the mandatory drinking games – but did you read the part about body shots?
Friend 2: Yeah, so what?
Friend 1: Did you read it closely?
Friend 2: No, I was pretty far away from it.
Friend 1: …what? No I mean did you notice the part where it stipulates that during body shot time, you have to do a body shot off of the corpse?
Friend 2: Oh God, I think I’m gonna be sick!
Friend 1: I think I’m gonna do it off his arm.
Friend 2: Dude, what are you talking about? He’s dead! I am not doing a body shot off of a dead body.
Friend 1: I would totally do one off of Christina Applegate’s dead body.
Friend 2: That’s gross, I wouldn’t do it off of anyone’s dead body.
Friend 1: What if she wasn’t really dead?
Friend 2: Well then yeah I’d do it, that was a stupid question.
Friend 1: Wasn’t it? Okay well, I’m gonna go do my body shot.
Friend 2: Yeah, might as well get it over with – it’s a good thing we got here first. That way we can pick some real estate that won’t be…more gross than it needs to be.

That’d be my last really great joke (and probably my first and only really great joke too). Of course, no one would think it was funny except for me…and I’d be dead.

*Except for maybe speech patterns and balance.
**Yeah, that’s right.

I was going through my daily perusal of blogs and upon reaching The Daily Dump I saw, perhaps, one of the most outlandish things I’ve ever seen in my life:

Double-threat? The last time I checked and each and every person on this list sucks at everything they do.

Paris Hilton-

Proclaimed Double Threat: Acting(?)/Singing(??)
Actual Double Threat: Being an Idiot/Being a huge bitch

Beyonce Knowles-

Proclaimed Double Threat: Acting/Singing
Actual Double Threat: Jiggling/Wiggling

Hilary Duff –

Proclaimed Double Threat: Acting/Singing
Actual Double Threat: Pooping/Peeing

Jessica Simpson –

Proclaimed Double Threat: Acting/Singing
Actual Double Threat: Left Boob/Right Boob