Friday, July 22, 2005

The fascination continues

This is The Interactive Internet Question Game. I got it from Joke.

This is how it's played:

1. If you want to play, leave a comment below saying so.
2. I'll post five unique questions to the comments section of this post.
3. You answer them in your blog.
4. In your post, you include this explanation and an offer to interview others.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Here are the questions that Joke asked me.

1- From now on you must slaughter and harvest your own food, what, if anything, do you give up?

Carbs. They're wicked labor-intensive, and my yard isn't big enough to grow enough. I'd get a week of eating bagels for breakfast, and then I'd be gazing sadly at an empty field while my stomach growled.

2- You get a time machine, but the battery is low and you only get to do over one thing in your life, what do you do over again?

I can't think of a single thing I'd do over. I would like the chance to kick my first boyfriend in the nuts FOR CHEATING ON ME WITH SOME HARVARD BITCH, but doing it now would be just as good as doing it back then.

3- You have the power to rewrite any film. What film and how?

I would severely edit the end of Stripes to get rid of the lame trip-to-Germany stuff.

Either that, or I would get rid of most of the plot of Caddyshack, especially the romantic viccisitudes of Danny the Caddy. Like that stuff about his girlfriend thinking she's pregnant. I would make it all about Rodney, Chevy, and of course, Bill Murray.

Speaking of Bill Murray, I'd re-cast Groundhog Day and play Andie McDowall's part myself. Rowwwwwwwr.

If you're looking for intellectual--I'd change The Birth of a Nation so Henry B. Walthall, a/k/a Ben Cameron, a/k/a "The Little Colonel" would not invent the Ku Klux Klan. Or at least, he'd realize that the Klan was a really, really bad idea.

4- You are booked on NPR and, at the moment of airtime, you go utterly mental. What do you do on-air?

I start answering the questions in dead-on impressions of famous NPR personalities. I say "Fuh-resh Air" like Terri Gross; I talk all breathy like Garrison Keillor, I lose my ability to pronounce the letters "r" and "l" like Ira Glass ("Iwa Gwass,") I pontificate like those dweebs on All Things Considered, and for a finale, I do a brilliant Cah Tahk bit.

5- You can have the couture wardrobe of your dreams but raging insomnia OR restful sleep for the rest of your life but nothing except dowdy, frumpy raiments.

I'd have to go for the first choice, because I already sleep like an 8-year-old, and I tend to look like a Glamour Don't most of the time.


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Gentle Readers:

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xxx, Poppy.