Thursday, August 9, 2012

Friday Fluff (sort of)

This survey comes from here. Thanks to so many who've pointed the way. You know who you are.

Weirdo Survey

How tall are you barefoot?

Five feet. I'm tidy that way. It also means people assume that I don't mind always riding in the back seat. (I don't, actually, unless you count the time I rode from Boston to Cape Cod in the space behind the only two seats in a  friend's Kharmann Ghia. But I don't like my compactness being taken for granted, as though my inability to see properly at concerts, or that my movie-viewing can be screwed by about 60% of the population that sits in front of me, can be exploited so that someone can assume shotgun.)

Have you ever smoked heroin?

You can smoke heroin?

Do you own a gun?

I'd prefer a bow and arrows. Cooler, and I could ride the train with them. If it had to be a gun, though, I'd prefer a ray gun. With a green ray.


Not for me. Although given my budget, almost every place I've lived in, yes.

Do you get nervous before

Everything? Yes.

What do you think of your friends?

Some are awesome, some are infuriatingly boring and too eager to get old, most are less available than I'd like; all baffle me by hanging around.

What's your favorite Christmas song?

"Papa Noel" by Brenda Lee. Because everything's happier with Cajun.

What do you prefer to drink in the morning?

Coffee. Not only do I like the taste, it gets me hyper as hell. My co-workers would like to thank Juan Valdez.

Do you do push-ups?

I do, actually. My wrists hate it, but I just yell at them like a drill sergeant for being pussies. YOU WILL DO TWENTY MORE MODIFIEDS! DID YOU SAY SOMETHING? NO? I DIDN'T THINK SO!

Have you ever done ecstacy?

You mean Ecstasy? Do you do drugs you can't spell? Because that could be a problem.

Anyway, No. The idea that something, in addition to killing me, could suddenly make me want to touch people I don't regularly, or worse, have them touch me,  freaks my shit right out.

Are you vegitarian?

Yes, only on my world we spell it vegetarian. And yes, I live a full, full life without bacon in it.

Do you like painkillers?

Only when I'm in pain. Like from too many push-ups. Addendum: OK, I'm not a pill-popper, but I can't say enough good things about ibuprofen, because I remember when it was only available by prescription, and as an adolescent girl whose periods had her almost incoherent with pain, I would have had a totally different attitude about menstruation if I'd been able to toss back a couple of ibuprofens. Seriously, I look at the bucket of Walgreen-brand ibuprofen in my bathroom cabinet and wish I could time-travel them back to 1975. Why didn't I get a prescription? Ah, that would've entailed discussing Personal Issues with family members. 

What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex?

I don't have one. I have no ability to shift into Guy gear.  Seriously, I once saw a friend deduct about 50 points off her IQ to flirt with guys. Holy crap, it totally worked; they were eating out of her hand (and she is not particularly pretty). I was amazed at how easy it was, and knew I could never do it, because then I'd have a guy who was interested in that shit and I could never forgive him. 

What time did you wake up today?

6am, when the cats hit the "Find" button on the cordless-phone base, and I thought for sure a bomb had been planted in my house. 

I didn't say I was fully awake.

Current worry?

Biggest worries are tied between:

1. What I can see right now is what my life will be.
2. Mitt Romney will become the next U.S. president. I cannot emphasize enough how much of a disaster that will be. He was my governor in Massachusetts, y'all, and the guy is an empty, soulless suit.

Current hate?

Bedbugs. Don't ask.

Do you own slippers?

I own flip-floppy things that I use as slippers, yes.

Do you burn or tan?

I tan with sunblock, burn without. And may be looking at my second patch of basal cell carcinoma, so add small-c cancer to that.

What songs do you sing in the shower?

Tonight it was "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga. Sometimes "Teenage Dirtbag." I don't sing a lot in the shower or tub, actually. Walking down the street, sure. 

How many TVs do you have in your house?


Do you wish on stars?

I don't see enough of them, frankly. I tend to look for portents, Greek-myth style. One dead pigeon has me on Red Alert all day.

What song do/did you want played at your wedding?

My marriage (long over) was in a registry office, and I played a soundtrack in my head called, "Holy Shit, What Am I Thinking?" I don't plan to re-marry. But if I were to, it would be "You Just May Be The One" by The Monkees. Maybe I'll put it on a mix CD for someone someday...

What song do you want played at your funeral?

My funeral should be the one thing I don't have to worry about; let someone else throw the party and buy all the Trader Joe's frozen hors d'oeuvres. I'd prefer that my friend Jenny G DJ, though; the gal is amazing.

Do you love someone?

Yep. You know how in classic Star Trek Nurse Chapel had that lame unrequited thing for Mr. Spock, and everyone thought, "God, Nurse Chapel, get over it already; he's never going to be in love with you unless you can get him back to that spore planet, and even at that, you'd have to beat that totally hot blonde hippie chick to the punch"? Pretty much something like that.


karen said...

Can't believe I only just found this now! But then, I've been away.

Ha ha ha, tidy.

But DID YOU KNOW that often the smallest person is put into the middle seat in the back with just a lap belt when it should be the biggest burliest person who sits there? Belt can rip a girl in two and render her para, just saying. Yikes!

So, never, ever sit in the back middle if it is a lap belt, and tell everyone I will hurt them if they give you guff.

Okay. Back still completely out of order some 3+ weeks after I pinched it. I may cry. ciao! xox

JC said...

Yep lap belt=death. Or paraplegia. Also, it seems, airbags. I think I asked a car dealer about that once, and he hemmed and hawed. I don't have to be a passenger in the front seat, but when I had my car, that air-bag label was right there, a foot from my face. From what I'd read, given my height and proximity to the wheel (caused by my feet needing to be able to reach the pedals), I was literally staring death in the face. What a stupid way to go.

Cindy Lou Who said...

I think a green-rayed-ray-gun would be the best thing ever!

JC said...