If I should die before I wake, let's make it a big show

When I wrote my obituary back in grad school, I died at an Orioles game with my supermodel wife when I was hit in the head with a line drive.

I'm not sure that'll do it anymore. I need to die in an insanely awesome way.

Perhaps I accidentally cross the power supplies of my computer, my wheelchair and my iPad, getting fried in the process but also inventing teleportation. Maybe the genetic mutation causing my Friedreich's ataxia starts giving me X-Men-esque superpowers but also kills me. Or I could die normally, but Natalie Portman, Sarah Michelle Gellar and hundreds of other starlets flock to my grave,weeping and wailing that they never dated me.

It's not that I am worried about my legacy -- I know I am too cool to be forgotten -- I just want to make sure everyone know I kicked it.

Claren's puppy raiser died unexpectedly in October, and I just found out.

I could have done absolutely nothing. But I feel so bad and so sad.

And I am terrified that could happen to me. I know my family would know -- living with one's sister has its privileges. But what about my friends in Nevada or Texas or California or even closer? I go months with no contact with various friends.

Or maybe I'll never die. That would make news, too.