Another Quiz I Stole From Stacy

Please feel free to take this quiz that I have just ripped off from Stacy the Peanut Queen, who says she took it from Katya Coldheart. I don’t know what you should do with it once you’ve taken it, but that’s OK. Maybe email it to 1000 of your closest friends?

Accent: 2 girls from Merrimack College once asked me where I was from while at a hockey game in which the southern school's team beat the living crap out of a very surprised Merrimack. I said, “I’m from here … from the South.” They said I was most certainly not, as I had no accent. Years later, on an elevator in Birmingham, Alabama, an old woman I had just asked to hit the 2^nd floor button, since she was blocking all access to the buttons, turned to me and said, “You’re not from around here, are you? Where are you from?” I’m from here. I can’t help it if I don’t have an accent. Get over it. And by the way, the bitch never did hit the button.

Bra size: Well, I really have no idea. I lift weights and have always had a decent chest. But I have never tried to fit a bra to it. I have never tried to fit a bra to any of my cars, either, because I think that’s just dumb. But that’s only my opinion. If you have a Mazda RX8 with a big black bra on it you just go right ahead and be proud of it. I did once have two women at the park mistake a heart rate monitor I was wearing under my t-shirt for a bra. That doesn’t really count, though, does it?

Chore I hate: Replacing the rear brakes on most any car that doesn’t have 4-wheel disc brakes.

Dad's name: I don't even know your father. Why would you ask me this?

Essential make-up products: Clearly I was not intended to take this test. I don’t wear a bra and I don’t wear make-up products.

Favorite perfume: Bud Lite dabbed delicately all down my shirt.

Gold or silver?: Gold proof straight from the US Mint. Please send that as quickly as you can, if you don’t mind. They put out new ones every year. Send as many and as often as you like.

Hometown: Well it isn’t Birmingham according to that old lady on the elevator.

Interesting fact: I have no accent. Also, I repeat things from time to time. Did I mention I have no accent? And that bitch never did hit the elevator button like I asked. So we just missed my floor entirely. And where the hell did she THINK I was from, anyway? England?!

Job title: I started off as Program II, whatever the hell that means, then I was an Applications Specialist, then Project Manager, and right now I don’t know what my title is although I did just this past Wednesday have a fascinating conversation with the former CEO about how much money I should be making and would be making were I to be fairly paid, get certified as a PMP, or get a title that someone knows what the hell it means.

Kids: None that I know of. And please don’t tell me if you know differently. I can’t afford child support. Actually, pretty much no one can. That seems to be the general idea behind it.

Living arrangements: I didn’t arrange to live. It just kind of happened when I wasn’t looking. I probably won’t arrange to die either. I expect that’ll just happen by itself, too.

Mom's birthplace: She claims it was Texas, but she lies about a lot of fairly important things so don’t hold me to that.

Number of apples eaten in the last week: 75 ½. I swear. Do you believe me? Good, now send me those gold coins.

Overnight hospital stays: Well, let’s see. I had one with a knee surgery when the doctor didn’t believe me that I had actually bent my knee backwards and so I almost died when they put me under with the wrong stuff. And then things get hazy after that. I had another knee surgery, but I can’t remember where I was. Then a sinus surgery and I’m sure I didn’t get to stay overnight for that, although I can’t remember where I did stay. Mostly in the bed, I suppose. Any other surgeries I just don’t recall at all.

Phobia: Julia Roberts movies. I tend to run screaming out of the theater whenever they’re around.

Question you ask yourself a lot: Why won’t Heather Graham ever return my calls? I call and I call and I call. And she just changes her number, but never calls me back. What is the deal?

Religious affiliation: Raised a Baptist. Went Charismatic after my parents sent me to the local college while all my sisters and brother were sent off to real schools to grow up and have actual careers they chose for themselves. Went Church of Christ just for the heck of it. Can’t remember why, really. The music wasn’t nearly as good as in the Charismatic churches, and the girls weren’t as “friendly” either, although some were damned good looking. So next I went Presbyterian and ended up getting married after several years of that. Oh, and I’ve been to a lot of Catholic Masses, but they wouldn’t let me eat the cookie, although I did learn to do the sign thing on your chest and fling holy water at people coming in the door. And thank God they have kneelers because they kneel a LOT. Baptists started kneeling at some point, but were too cheap to install kneelers. That may have been why I tried to be Catholic, but I can’t remember exactly. I think it might have been because the girls were said to be “friendlier” in Catholic churches than in Baptist churches. I won’t comment on that any further except to say that if I end up in Hell it might have something to do with that.

Siblings: A bunch of sisters and a brother who stole a car from me and stripped it. Seriously.

Time I wake up: Weekdays...6:30 Am. Weekends....I don’t go to bed until Sunday night. Take a look at when this blog was posted and you’ll see.

Unnatural hair color: I am not a gay man and I do not wear bras, perfume, or dye my hair. And yes, I know that gay men consider men who wear bras and shit to be totally different, but the rest of us just lump you all in together anyway, so just get over it. We can’t help doing that. We were born confusing gay people and transsexuals and all of that other funky shit. It’s not our fault.

Vegetable I Refuse to Eat: Any that I can no longer recognize.

Worst habit: Can I only have one? Let’s see … trusting narcissistic sociopaths who say “I’m a Christian, too” and then proceed to attack every single Christian in the office until they’ve utterly destroyed all their reputations and driven them from their jobs with lies and sabotage. Oh, here’s another one: Not getting paid what I’m worth and then leaving for another job that pays more. And here’s one: always being chosen by the stumbling drunk guy to get up in your face and talk for hours about shit you don’t want to hear while the good-looking girl you came to talk to in the first place ends up wandering off to talk to someone else because she can’t get a word in edgewise while drunk-boy is plastered to your face blabbing his fool head off.

X-rays?: More than King Tut. More than a moon rock. More than frequent flyer luggage. I glow in the dark.

Yummy food I make: Frozen waffles. Hey, ripping open that bag and popping them in the toaster is as much making them as a blow job is not sex.

Zodiac sign: Formerly known as Prince

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