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Areas of Unrest
23 September 1999 - In Which a Survey Proves My AntiquityQOTD: "The same kimono / the top geishas are wearing - / got it at Loehmann's." - David M. Bader, Haikus for Jews Reading: Reginald Hill, On Beulah Height Listening to: Lotte Lenya singing Kurt Weill songs (a CD forced on me by my boss in an attempt to get even with me for lending him Back Tuva Future) I was going to write all sorts of exciting things, but I am tired and it is far easier to cheat by using the latest survey making the journal rounds as the basis for an entry instead. So, here goes:
If I were really retarded, would I even know whether or not I looked gorgeous or fully appreciate my gorgeousosity? If I were really a genius, would I even worry about whether I looked "retarded"? I like to think I'd be above all those petty concerns. Which is my excuse for not doing something about my hair. So, yes, the latter.
I hate Bruce Willis, but not nearly as much as I hate the word "bitchslap".
I find Bernadette Peters truly annoying, but not as annoying as I find the word "bitchslap".
The first one who used as sexist and demeaning a word as "bitchslap" in my presence.
Here is where I get clever and instead of just being outraged like everybody else remind you that there is a family of man and if you go back far enough we are all related. Basically this means I can make-out with anyone at all I want to. And while there are plenty of cute enough celebrities of all sorts, the chemistry between Robert and me is still pretty damn powerful.
It depends on what type of spider. If it's a normal spider, I pick it up and put it outside. If it's a black widow or brown recluse, I put on gloves first.
A washcloth with the lean for rinsing.
I have no idea who David Blaine is. And David Copperfield is a character in a novel by Charles Dickens, who I didn't like much but who didn't deserve having his name stolen by a magician. So, the latter.
Dirty underwear turned inside out so the relatively cleaner side is next to my skin
Most notions of beauty are rather odd. I've never seen her sans makeup and airbrushing so I have no idea what she really looks like.
Xxylophagous troglodyte. I know you don't think it's a cussword but most people don't know what it means so they react as if I called them something worse than a wood-eating cavedweller.
I am sound asleep by that time and, were I ever to dream of talk show hosts, I am sure I would have the good taste to dream of Dick Cavett.
My guess is the leadership is creepy and most of the followers are wacko, but that is true of almost any group whose principles are radically different from my own.
I'm not sure which is which, but I usually root for the tiger.
Anything too embarrassing to request of someone I am intimate with is too embarrassing to publish on my web page.
I actually own a video by Maria Conchita Alonso. It's an exercise video. It's the closest thing to a pornographic exercise video I can imagine. It's also a damn good workout. While, about all I know about Rae Dawn Chong is that she's the daughter of the Chong who worked with Cheech. Maria wins by default.
Hmmm, I always thought it was Pluto.
I throw myself across my bed sobbing wildly and make a lot of long-distance phone calls, most of which sound like tryouts for the Olympic power-kvetching team.
This is tough but having been in a vampire movie gives Kiefer the edge. Frank Langella was still the sexiest Dracula, though.
I'm not exactly sure who any of them are or were. Can I put in a vote for Richard Corey?
They're identical twins, right? Do you think I have a clue as to which is which?
I don't spend a lot of time surfing the net, but people are scared of me anyway.
I mostly sing Gilbert and Sullivan songs instead of "The Joker".
I'm guessing that a death pool is to guess who would die first. Ronald Reagan is old enough that one has to vote for him and I guess Bob Hope meets that criterion too. And doesn't Mr. T have some dreadful disease? Or is that wishful thinking on my part? I should also note that I have no idea who John Popper or Scott Weiland are.
I prepare the time machine to take me home because I'd have to have gone back 40 years in time to ever be in such a dilemma. Then I order a pizza.
Yes. Unless both bride and groom are world class competitors.
My elbow is far more attractive. But you should really see my left shoulder blade.
I couldn't even name one.
Probably, given how many other unlikely people have.
Yes. But if you can really pay rent with a hundred dollar bill in Madison, maybe I should move there.
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