This entry is pretty much just what the subject line says it is, a little survey called "Getting to Know Your Friends" that found its way into my inbox the other day. It's silly, but it's something to do on a late-summer afternoon that really seems interminable...
Until very recently, I earned my living by writing soulless, superficial, mind-numbingly dull technical and marketing documents. Now I earn my living by proofreading soulless, superficial, mind-numbingly dull technical and marketing documents. That's just the day job, though. I'm really a novelist and screenwriter. Just like everybody else I know.
The whoosh of an air conditioner, the drone of a female voice coming through someone's speaker-phone several cubicles away, and the clickety-clackety of lots of fingers on lots of keyboards.
A handful of free pretzels from the break room. Also known as Purina Proofreader Chow.
Not since those unfortunate incidents involving the little wooden boy and the alien mother ship.
"Raw umber." Which, I understand, Crayola no longer makes. Figures.
Air-conditioned and fluorescently lighted.
My significant other, Anne.
I hope so, otherwise one of my enemies has gotten hold of my e-mail address.
Anything that gives off smoke and has "one large gold brick" on the ingredients list.
Since I don't enjoy sports in general, I'm not really qualified to answer this. But if you really twist my arm... female beach volleyball. As if you couldn't see that one coming.
Hair? What hair?
Glasses, ever since someone said something to me about the trees on the ridgeline and I said, "There are trees on the ridgeline?"
One. A psychotic border collie named Shadow. Although I'm also an adoptive father to Anne's poodle, Rusty. And a benevolent, god-like provider of food to the dozen or so feral cats that live in my backyard.
In a theater? Fantastic Four.
At home? On DVD? A.I. Artificial Intelligence. On VHS? The Graduate.
Sorry if that's more information than required, but the question was imprecisely worded.
The last one before fall teeters into winter.
It varies, but it almost always involves "colorful metaphors."
Hm. Tough one. I had so many. My old Star Trek phaser was cool, until Dad took the batteries out because he got tired of the sound effects. And then there was that electronic starship toy that made roaring engine sounds that changed in pitch depending on the ship's angle. Until Dad took the batteries out. And I had a cool police car toy with a working siren. At least it worked until Dad took the batteries out...
See my answer two items back.
Neither unless you promise to respect me in the morning.
Cherry, of course.
It is the polite thing to do...
Oh, you mean if I were to have sent this survey around by e-mail instead of blogging it? Hell, I don't know...
See above.
In a house.
While watching Fantastic Four. Make of that what you will.
Several pairs of shoes I don't wear anymore, coated in lots and lots of dust.
Keith Jensen.
The usual: dinner, aimless channel-surfing in the hopes that I might find something worth watching, a phone call to Anne, and a nightcap of Fudge Stripe cookies and milk.
Woodsmoke on a crisp evening, coffee brewing on a crisp morning, fresh-cut alfalfa, new leather, and vanilla...
Failure. Humiliation. Arriving at work without my pants. The usual.
Cheese. Because everything's better with cheese.
I'm rather fond of a particular 1963 Ford Galaxie. But my '03 Mustang is cool, too. And I'd like to have a DeLorean someday. Or a Cobra. Or a '61 'vette, or a Mercedes Gullwing, or if you want to get really crazy, a Duesenberg roadster. Mostly I'd like to own Harrah's Car Collection.
Well, aside from being genetically predisposed toward obsessive-compulsive disorder, border collies are pretty cool.
Two. But I also carry two more in my pocket. Hey, I don't always drive, so I don't need the car keys all the time...
It's more a matter of weeks, actually.
Sunday. It's the only one when I usually have no obligations the moment I wake up in the morning.
Well, in the strict biological sense of life-functions occurring while I was in a particular state, nine. If you're talking long-term residency, then only one.
Short-term, as described above? Probably a dozen or so. Long-term, then only one.
Sure. I'm all about narcissistic rambling...
If anyone's still out there reading this so late on a Friday evening, it's time to log off now. Go and have a good weekend, folks...
Posted by jason at August 12, 2005 06:10 PM