ain't no reprievement gonna be found

Swiped with 'nuff respect from [Schwulerin], here's a random question survey. Entry title comes from Max Payne 3, which I'm currently playing and loving the shit out of. Yes, I know you shouldn't end a sentence with "of". Ask me how many fucks I give. (Free answer: none of the fucks)

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When was the last time you ran?

I can't remember because I don't run unless I'm in some sort of danger: being chased by dogs, about to wet my pants, going to miss a plane, etc. So probably the closest thing I can think of in recent memory is when G and I got back from Daddy-O's wedding and we speedwalked to the stop for the Van Nuys flyaway shuttle. Trust me, you don't EVER want to miss that thing. Once I got there literally seconds too late and wound up waiting almost an hour for the next one.

Do you get a full 8 hours of sleep a night?

I try to, but the siren song of the internet/TV/whatever book I happen to be reading is usually too strong. I work the 9:30-6 shift, so I can stay up late, which is perfect since I'm a diehard night owl. I usually wind up getting about 7 hours and change.

What high school clubs/teams did you join?

I belonged to the French Club and, for a semester, Bible Study. I can almost hear the ROFLing from here, but I had a monster crush on one of its most ardent attendees. I'll call him Brett, because that was his name and it's common enough that you won't be all "OMG I know that guy I'm totally telling him". Brett looked like a Sweet Valley High romantic interest, all piercing blue eyes and slightly crooked smile and tanned legs all muscular from tennis. He was also super religious, and although I most decidedly was NOT, I also wasn't an agnostic at that point in my life. So I joined Bible Club and spent most of the time mooning over Brett. Eventually the lessons started to sink in and I became born again, which didn't last long. I asked Brett to the Sadie Hawkins dance and he said no, which led to me fleeing French class in tears and sobbing in the bathroom. Oh, it felt like the end of the world!

Moral of the story: God is not your personal Match.com.

Do you eat raw cookie dough?

I have very limited opportunities to eat raw cookie dough, since the only thing I make with any regularity is my famous ghetto risotto, but if presented with the opportunity, I would most certainly eat it. I know, you're all "but salmonella!" and I would retort, "I ate plenty of raw cookie dough and licked many a beater as a kid and suffered no ill effects. These kids today, with the constant hand sanitizing and parents who shun the 5 second rule, are going to have puny immune systems that will be bent over and thoroughly rogered by the first supervirus that comes along, and people like me and Honey Boo Boo Child who eat cheese puffs off the floor will still be around. Now, you may not want to survive in a world where only people like me and Honey Boo Boo Child are still around, but that's your choice."

Could you live without a computer?

I suppose technically yes, since I spent the first 25 or so years of my life without one. But man, I barely remember the dark pre-internet years. Just knowing that in a matter of seconds I can look at a silly cat video or research vacations or "talk" to somebody on a different continent or look up the lyrics to "De Doo Doo Doo" by The Police to see if Sting really sings "their logic ties you up and rapes you" (which he does, and dude, WTF?) is highly beneficial to my quality of life.

Who would you call if you won the lottery?

G, my dad, a lawyer, and a financial planner. I agree with Schwulerin; I would try to lay as low as possible. I don't need or want everybody coming forward with their grubby hands outstretched, looking for a piece of my sweet sweet pie.

...my FINANCIAL pie.

Is Justin Timberlake becoming the next Michael Jackson?

I'm not even sure what this means. Talent wise? No, although I do think he's very talented, and really funny in those SNL skits. Tragic life and accusations of child molestation and death by propofol overdose? I sure as shit hope not.

Schwulerin had a really good response to this question, and in it she mentioned Duran Duran. I shared a shameful secret with her, and now I'll do it here because why not.

Like many teenage/tweenage girls of my generation, I fucking LOVED Duran Duran. Their music was catchy and fun, and they weren't exactly difficult to look at. My favorite was John Taylor, as evidenced by this picture of me with one of my beloved JT posters:





This picture is so 1984 I can almost smell the grape Bubble Yum. And yes, that mirror says "MINISTRY". I made it in art class, and yes, it's the band. Before The Land of Rape and Honey and "Jesus Built My Hotrod", they were a poppy New Wave band. Exhibit #1:





I was so in love with Al Jourgensen, oh my god. I LIVED for this video to be played on MTV! I know it looks cheesy as all fuck now, but for the early 80's it was edgy. I wrote him a fan letter and he wrote back, which was super nice of him. I know he's embarrassed as hell of his earliest work, but I don't care, With Sympathy still holds up. Trufax.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the embarrassing story. I was so in love with John Taylor that I started signing my school papers/reports/tests as [real first name/last name]-Taylor. One of my teachers called home and asked my mom if she'd gotten divorced and remarried and my mom was all "Um, no...why?" The cringe factor is through the roof.

But at least I was enough of a feminist, even at that early age, to hyphenate my last name after marriage so yay?

When was the last time you left your house for a reason other than going to work or school?

I went to Target last night and bought a shitload of stuff, including but not limited to a nightgown, two enormous boxes of Uncrustables (I eat those for lunch every day; my blood runs rich with HFCS), underwear, Pop Chips, paper towels, TP for my bunghole, dishwashing detergent, lip balm, Coke Zero, Vitamin Water, cream of chicken soup, rice, shampoo, conditioner, razors, facial cleansing towelettes, and allergy medicine. The cashier scanned my driver's license before I was allowed to purchase it, which I found irritating. What, I'm gonna go all Breaking Bad and brew meth in my bathroom? Whatever.

But as a general rule, I try not to venture from my home once I get off work. Whenever I can, I run errands on my lunch break so I can spend my evenings in glorious sloth, sprawled out on Big Brown and watching 20 minutes of and then quickly rejecting a succession of Netflix DVDs.

Hey, speaking of which, here are the last ten Netflix discs I didn't finish and why!

• ATM: Lame horror movie about a group of irritating coworkers trapped in a glass-fronted ATM and menaced by a killer
  
• Revolutionary Road: Depressing
  
• The Woodmans: Depressing
  
• The Killer Inside Me: When Casey Affleck started bashing Jessica Alba's face into an unrecognizable bloody pulp, I turned it off. I had just seen Killer Joe the night before, and I'd had my fill of beautiful women's faces being turned into hamburger. It was fucking disturbing.
  
• Some Guy Who Kills People: Some Movies Are Stupid
  
• Margaret: Depressing
  
• Big Miracle: Big Boredom
  
• Lilya 4-Ever: Without much exaggeration, this movie made me want to climb into bed and pull the covers over my head and rock slowly back and forth. It made all of the other depressing movies on this list look like Happy Prancing Puppy Time.
  
• Modify: A documentary about body modification that got a little too gross for me.
  
• Jeff Who Lives at Home: STOP ZOOMING IN SUDDENLY FOR NO GODDAMN REASON, DUPLASS BROTHERS, IT IS NAUSEA-INDUCING NOT COOL.
  

Now, looking at the above list, you might be thinking "What, so you can't handle depressing movies? Sack up, princess." It's not that; it's just that if there's absolutely no spark of hope or humor and/or I don't like the characters, then I have better things to do with my time.

Would you survive in prison?

Without attaching myself like a remora to the side of the biggest baddest bitch there, highly unlikely. I'm shy and have feeble upper body strength, both of which might as well be targets painted on my chest. And, to be honest, depending on how long I was supposed to be in there, I highly doubt I'd WANT to survive prison.

In addition to making tough allies, I think my best bet for surviving would be a fat commissary account so I can bribe and befriend other inmates with gifts of cigarettes, magazines, Cup Noodles, and name brand shampoo. I'm going to e-mail everybody I know and ask them to send money to my commissary account if I ever go to prison.

Name the state (province, whatever) that is closest to where you live that you have never visited. Do you think you will ever visit that place?

Oregon, which I absolutely want to visit. It's supposed to be gorgeous, and Portland is home to Powell's Books, Voodoo Doughnuts, and the 24-Hour Coin Operated Church of Elvis. Seriously, what else could a girl possibly need?

My next vacation, however, is going to be Las Vegas next month. I got fucked out of both Thanksgiving AND Christmas vacation this year, which made me go into total sulk mode. Because I don't want to go an entire year without a single vacation (white person's problems!), I figured I'd hit Vegas for a short solo trip. I figure I'll eat a lot of delicious foodz, see a show (probably Absinthe), get some sort of spa treatment, gamble, lounge, loll, and hopefully hang out with my beloved [Spock]. This might not even happen depending on how much flights are (memo to self: check ticket prices after finishing this entry), but I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

And hey, if it doesn't work out, maybe I'll just take a week off work and play Resident Evil 6(OCTOBER 2ND!!!eleventy!!) until my fingers snap in half. Also an option!