From The Queen, To Meme, To Youyou

My wonderful bloggy friend, Lime, is The Queen Of Memes. Her answers to the ridiculous questions posed are always vastly entertaining, and just off-kilter enough to make me want to hug her - which I did when we met, as a matter of fact, and here's the photographic proof:



Yes, she is picking my nose. That's the kind of good buddies we immediately became upon our first physical meeting. I would have reciprocated, it being the gentlemanly thing to do, but MY WIFE was taking the picture. It isn't right for a man to stick part of his anatomy into another woman's openings while HIS WIFE is standing right there.

Anyway, Lime was given a meme to do, and she did it in her standard goofy-yet-intelligent fashion. You should go see the original. HERE IT IS.

I would assume that you went to her place and now you're back, but I know how things work here on teh interwebs. People pretend to have done things which they haven't at all, such as picking their friend's noses. So, if you're one of those people, I'll explain what you need to know. Lime was given eight questions to answer. She did so. She was then supposed to compose eight questions of her own, and tag eight other people to answer those questions. She did that, and I was one of the people she tagged. Now, normally - as you know if you've been coming here for any appreciable length of time - I would jump, using both pedal extremities, upon someone who tagged me to do a meme. If you need proof concerning this assertion, you could go HERE or HERE (or pretend to do so, if you're one of those people.) In this instance, however, I'm glad to have the excuse to fill space without having to be tremendously lucid. Since I've been more-or-less giving up smoking, my brain functioning quite not well is. This usually odious task will now allow me to write in short nonsensical bursts, as opposed to the rigorous theoretical dissertations for which I'm generally known, thus saving me from having to smoke until I make a joke about it later on, which I will.

(By the way, I italicized the word 'those' three times in that last paragraph. For some reason, I find that worth noting. Your mileage may vary.)

Well, I guess we should get on with this. Here are Lime's questions, conveniently followed by my brilliant-yet-accessible answers.

1. In 10 words or fewer explain the media fascination with Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton.

Men like sluts. Women like dissing sluts. Media knows this.

2. Which of your coworkers most drives you to fantasies of homicidal rage and which irritating behavior from this individual is most likely to set your fancy to flight?

Surprisingly, none of my actual co-workers (or "quirkers", as MY WIFE likes to call them) drives me batty. They are all intelligent, funny, and ply me with cookies from time to time. However, there are a few folks with whom I have to deal, from outside of the office proper, who occasionally leave me with a burning desire to administer a dope slap. You'd be amazed at the number of actual professional voice talents who can't read...

3. Describe the art project you'd create if I gave you 3 dirty socks, a baggie of old bread wrapper twistie ties, a D cell battery, a pound of peanut shells, and a small bottle of dishwashing liquid. What message would you hope to convey to the masses with your great piece of art?

Hold on. This one requires actual thought. I need to re-up my nicotine levels.

[goes outside to have a smoke, then returns, thus fulfilling the promise, made above in the fourth paragraph, concerning a smoking joke]

Now that I've regained the ability to form cogent thought, I realize that this question is ridiculous. Therefore, I'll fill the dirty socks with the peanut shells, glue the twistie ties all over my naked body, shove the D cell battery up my ass, and squirt passers-by with the dishwashing liquid while beating them over the head with the dirty socks filled with peanut shells. I will call my work of performance art, "Man's Inhumanity To Man", and I expect that the same folks who found THIS a delightful piece of art...



... will argue endlessly over the meaning of the D cell's placement and lobby to get me a grant from the NEA.

(I have no idea who the artist is, but the image came from HERE, so that's where I give the credit until more info is available.)

4. For the next month you either have to go every where dressed in a mariachi jacket and neoprene pants or you have to enter every room, public or private, singing "Hit Me, Baby, One More Time." Which do you choose and why?

The clothes, because I don't know the song. However, I'll wear the jacket as a pair of pants, and use the pants for a hat, since it wasn't stipulated that I had to wear them as designed.

Loopholes! I love 'em!

5. Knock, knock. Who's there?

"Jesus."

"Jesus who?"

"OK, you go to hell. Next!"

6. What would you do for a Klondike bar?

Haven't I done enough already?

7. Poof! You will now be a member of the opposite sex for the next month. What do you think you will learn? What do you hope to experience? What do you dread?

I will learn how much money a lesbian prostitute can make in 30 days. I hope to experience orgasm. I dread finding out that even lesbians fake it.

8. Fill in the blank. I really ought to___________ but instead I will__________.

I really ought to be working, but instead I will continue on with this meme.



Here's another photo of Lime and me. We're laughing with you, not at you (unless you're wearing a mariachi jacket and neoprene pants.)

And, in that spirit, here's the second part of the task. I have to create eight questions to be answered, and then tag eight of you poor suckers to answer them. Here goes...

1 - You have a choice. You can have your nose replaced with a second set of your genitals, or you can have your genitals replaced with a second nose. Which would you choose, and why?

2 - Do you think I give a tinker's damn?

3 - If you suddenly found yourself transformed into a cockroach, would you step on yourself?

4 - If fuschia was a smell, and avocados were polar bears, why not Toronto?

5 - Does the fact that Deep Purple isn't in the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame piss you off? How about the fact that Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers ARE in there? I mean, come on, not a bad singing group, but that's like putting Eddie Brinkman in Cooperstown.


Eddie Brinkman, whom I really liked as a player, but come on...

6 - If you were Eddie Brinkman, would you be pissed off now?

7 - Artichokes or Hand Grenades?

8 - What's that smell?

And here's the part of the game we all dread. I name eight of you to actually try and answer the silly questions I've made up. I choose...

Knucklehead

Blogged Down At The Moment

Eddie Bluelights

Land Of Shimp

Uncle Skip

Matt Conlon

Quirkyloon

and, last but not least (leaving the seven above to wonder which of them IS the least)

The Surly Writer (who hasn't been doing much writing lately, surly or otherwise, so maybe this will give her something to easily get back into the swing.)

(I wish I could see the look on each of their faces as they find out they've been chosen. I could probably go another twenty minutes without a cigarette if I had those surprised looks to amuse me.)

Soon, with appreciably better things, I would assume.