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This week, thousands of people downloaded forms to help them construct living wills. Lawyers across the country reported unprecedented interest in advanced care directives, which indicate what medical care can be provided if you cannot communicate your own wishes to doctors.

But before Terri Schiavo's case made national headlines last week, there was a memorable episode of Seinfeld that addressed the need for living wills. After watching a movie with a comatose woman, Kramer decides to construct his own living will.

Kramer's will is highly nuanced and based on many highly improbable situations. With liver, kidney and gall bladder function -- but without a central nervous system -- Kramer wants to pull the plug. With one lung, no eyesight, and a feeding tube, he would opt to stay alive.

Kramer's decision to make a will made me think that every Kramer should have a living will, just in case anything goes wrong. And now that Spring Fling is but a few short weeks away, I have decided to publish my own Spring Fling-themed living will -- just in case I go into cardiac arrest after eating too many fried Oreos.

I would rather have all of you as the executors of my will, instead of my parents, who think that I spend my weekends studying in the Van Pelt stacks. So if you see me in any of the following situations, please do not call Robyn or Neil Kramer. Instead, follow this helpful guide for knowing what, if any, medical care I would request.

1. If my eardrums burst after listening to Sonic Youth and Cat Power perform in Wynn Commons, please pull the plug. I realize my brain will still be functioning, as well as all of my other vital organs, but I really don't want Sonic Youth to be the last sounds I ever hear. I realize that they will still be the last sounds I ever hear if my eardrums burst, but I still think death would be less painful than having Sonic Youth songs from 1995 swirling in my brain for the rest of my life.

2. Speaking of which, if I'm somehow trampled by the eight or nine fans clogging Wynn Commons, keep me alive. But if the fans somehow mute the volume on my iPod and force me to listen to Sonic Youth or Cat Power, stop my Scoop deVille rations and my Qdoba. It will be for the best.

3. Last year, when I was munching on fried Oreos and fried pierogies and fried chicken, I could feel my arteries clogging and sputtering under the strain. A fried Oreo is like eating a handful of lard. Sure it's tasty, but after four or five handfuls, your cardiovascular system suffers from post-traumatic stress syndrome. It can take years to recover.

So if you see me lying on the ground, clutching my chest and holding a container of half-eaten Oreos, do not panic. If it appears that the lack of oxygen has affected my brain, do not pull the plug. Instead, pour liquid Drano into my arteries, which should clear things up in no time. When I awake from my coma, I would like another plate of Oreos, if possible. This process can be repeated as many times as necessary.

4. If my dancing to bands in the Quad makes you want to pluck out your eyeballs, kill me. I apologize in advance for any harm my dancing may inflict upon you.

5. On Saturday, you might notice me stumbling around the Quadrangle. I might be laughing uncontrollably, have poor motor skills or profess undying affection for you or your close associates. This does not indicate a lack of oxygen in my brain. Rather, it means I have probably taken one too many sips out of my non-alcoholic hip-flask and should be gently berated.

6. If my liver still works on Saturday night, and my heart is beating, and I can blink my eyelids to answer yes-or-no questions, but for some reason my speech is somewhat slurred, do not panic. Do not pull the plug. After waking up to an excruciating headache on Sunday and possibly regurgitating my Oreos, I should survive.

7. If on Sunday, I then complain terribly about the major amounts of work I have to do, and I look like shit and go to Bui's repeatedly for an egg-and-cheese sandwich, don't kill me, but please roll your eyes.

And if you're suffering from the same symptoms, don't complain to all of your friends. They'll want to kill you, even if you don't have a living will.

Melody Joy Kramer is a junior English major from Cherry Hill, N.J. Perpendicular Harmony appears on Wednesdays.

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