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Stephanie Reppas

New York

Stephanie Reppas

New York

OBITUARY

Stephanie Suspina Reppas kicked on December 31, 2047, having lived twice as long as she had expected, and four times longer than she wished. She was 106, or 87, depending on who you ask.

An avid maker of things, Steph spent her time on this earth hatching malapropisms and frequently overstepping her bounds, while stringing along numerous desultory ambitions: designer, neologist, jerry-rigger, author (she wrote a lucrative series of pointless ‘vampire-love-teen-drivel’ under the pseudonym ‘Stephanie Myer,’ but pissed away her royalties on kitschy junk purchased via Ebay). She loved cooking (kidding; Steph used her oven for storage). In 2002, her week-long dream to be a Rockette was unceremoniously squelched when she was kicked out of open auditions for being an inch too tall. And drunk.

Steph was a card-carrying Orthography Commando, ardently correcting misspelled graffiti in the subway with a Sharpie. Her favorite word was ‘eponymous’; ‘Zimbabwe’ ran a close second. She shook hands with the Dalai Lama and Audrey Hepburn. She had a permanent dent in her head where she was once kicked by Angelo Moore. She hated Valentine’s Day, had a weakness for tall, brilliant weirdos (re: John Cleese), and nursed an unabashed kilt fetish.

Ms. Reppas is survived by her two fab nieces who are encouraged to fight over her estate: a milk crate full of concert tees and costume jewelry, plus 97 boxes of welding supplies. It should be noted, however, that Steph willed everything to her beloved ex-cat, Igor, so sorry, girlies, joke’s on you.

A memorial bash/exhibition will be held this weekend, B.Y.O.B. (No funeral, fer eff’s sake; those things are creepy as get-out.) Those wishing to pay their respects will get one peek into the makeshift urn (an old paint can with a tiara super-glued to the lid) before her ashes are tossed; Ms. Reppas was most eager to get her atoms out there and back in action.

In lieu of flowers, Steph’s family of friends ask that you make a sizable purchase at your local ABC liquor, get rip-roaring drunk and ‘talk nice’ behind her back.

Some Tangent Post-mortem Advice from Steph: ‘Avoid Disney World. I read somewhere that people are always dumping the ashes of their loved ones there, like off roller coasters and stuff. Ick.’

Editor’s Note: Kept out of the news until now, Ms. Reppas died from the resulting injuries of a cassowary attack. Her last words were, ‘Watch this."

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