One Last Link
And no, I'm not dying of a head cold, though I'm such a huge baby, it wouldn't be unreasonable to worry that I might have been. (Actually almost back to full-powered Amy on Sunday, after a day of whining on the couch on Saturday.)

It is possible, however, that Gregg saved my life with the special elixir known as Cantor's Deli's chicken broth, which he brings me whenever I'm sick. Seriously, the stuff goes down the hatch -- all greasy and chickeny -- and it's like a sorceress granted you a new life.

But on to this post's death theme...

Whomever outlasts me should feel free to flush my ashes down the crapper and spend the money that would have gone to a casket (etc.) on a bash for my friends with alcohol, steak, sushi, pot edibles, and strippers. https://t.co/JBIazhNDTz

— Amy Alkon (@amyalkon) February 18, 2019