“The butcher died, and he requested to be cremated. But I don’t want to burn him, because I like my meat medium rare.”
“At the age of 40, having ordered meat very rare in restaurants all his life, he realized he actually liked it medium and not at all rare.”
“I’d never own a Hooters, because while I may be the face of the franchise, people only ever look at the breasts. Makes me feel like a piece of meat—medium rare, with melted cheese on top.”
“I met a guy who had an interesting job. He was a meat cutter, or a meat slicer, something like that. I probably butchered his job title. ”
“When I die, nieces, I want to be cremated, my ashes taken up in a bush plane and sprinkled onto the people in town below. Let them think my body is snowflakes, sticking in their hair and on their shoulders like dandruff.”
“Do this: hate him for me after I die. I beg you. Dying request.”