I have been lucky enough to be allowed to explore someone else's universe for a day to get a nice new perspective on how other people earn a living.

I got a chance to spend a whole day in Phaneuf Funeral Home in Manchester New Hampshire, where Gil "Gilly" Burton showed me around his newly remodel facility.

I was first shown the basement of the facility where they prepare the bodies for the funeral. They had several awful tasting bags of stuff lying around, which I was told several times not to "monkey with" but I don't listen to nerds. The place was eerily quiet down there, and everything we did echoed forever. I set up my decks and spun some hot beats while Gilly was upstairs talking to some lady who couldn't keep her shit together. After taking a nice look around the place, I learned that progressive trance is the best sounding music for a mortuary.

I stormed upstairs due to boredom, and saw Gilly preparing a coffin for a funeral later today. He told me that the most important part of his viewing room is to keep the environment clean looking and respectful. He meticulously prepared the placement of the coffin, and rudely ignored my polite requests to pull my finger. The magical circumstances of my lactose hating stomach processing a milkshake, and the sterile silence of the room, I decided to seize the moment by farting in Gilly's face as punishment for ignoring me.
After a harsh lecture about regrets, respect, and hygiene, Gilly sent me to the opposite viewing room or he would contact the police. I went into the other stupid room for assholes, and pouted. It was about 2 hours into my visit at Phaneufs, and my morning buzz was wearing off pretty quickly. I curled up and took a nap on the floor borrowing something resembling a pillow from a coffin that was crazy hard to open.

I woke up 10 hours later with no one in sight. I looked around for anyone, but found nothing. I let myself out after stealing all the pens from the place.

All in all, I don't think the boring life of a funeral director would really suit me. These guys are nothing, but maids with a culminating a hatred of hot beats. If any of you are considering a career in the funereal arts, please take this advice. Do not drink the shit in the basement.