If I had 6 months to live

1. Nod meaningfully at the doctor. Say, "No, really, I'm OK. Let me just take some time to process this." Leave doctor's office.

2. Proceed directly to closest corner store. Purchase 3 packs of P-Funks. Light one immediately, savoring the rich tobacco flavor. Light another one, just to have as a spare. Laugh at clerk who is looking at me mean for smoking in the store. Purchase one PBR tall-boy and take with me in ghetto bag.

3. Go home, apply for 8-10 credit cards. Call family. "I'm OK. Yes. Yes, really. I know, it's devastating. What? Oh, yeah, I'll come by and see you in a couple of weeks."

4. Liquidate IRA. Request that money be wired immediately into my checking account.

5. Dinner that night for 10 at Boulevard, on me. "What's that 2003 Marcassin chardonnay? 285 a bottle? That's fine. We'll take 3."

6. Limo ride to airport.

7. First class to Lihue, then another limo to two-week stay at private villa, Maui beachfront.

8. "Hello? Make-a-Wish foundation? Got something to write with? OK, I want to party with the Lohan for a weekend in LA. No Ronson, that's firm."

9. 5 months, 29 days later: achieve state of Zen-like bliss and acceptance. Select music for funeral. Heavy on the Elliott Smith. If people aren't crying, it's not a funeral.

10. "What do you mean, misdiagnosis? What does that mean?"