And some of you were worried...pfft.
eideteker -- If you were a Karma Chameleon, would you be more likely to come, or to go?
uh, huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh. Come.
Whichever I pick I know it's going to come back and bite me in the ass.
I come and go. I got no trouble selling the contradiction.
Answers are easy when questions, they don't suck...oh boy this sucks...oh boy this suuuu-uh-uh-ucks!
subbes -- Short dress, or long shirt?
If you could tuck it in to anything, it's a long shirt.
As long as you could sit a ridiculous belt loosely over your hips and have enough left over to at least cover the caboose, it's a dress.
Meh, just throw some jeans on underneath. What works for Deadheads works for me.
It's whatever Paris tells us it is.
At first I interpreted this as "If it's not cold enough to go long dress/long shirt or hot enough to go short dress/short shirt" which of the two will you choose as the longer garment in order to achieve a midseason outfit?
Long bottoms/short sleeved shirt.
Short bottoms/long sleeved shirt.
absolutcalm -- Ohh, I'm just thinking about Tony... Where he is, who he's with, what is he thinking, is he thinking of me? And will he ever return....
I'm bumming his talk show got cancelled, but as long as TVland needs a barely-comprehensible Italian stereotype, Tony Danza will return.
He's riding around on his bicycle like a pony.
Forget Tony. Whatever happened to Toni and Toné?
My God it stinks in here. It stinks of stupid women wondering about Tony.
twicketface -- Is there anything Gold Bond Powder can't soothe?
An enraged tiger.
One of those annoying little zit things on the tip of your tonuge.
coldblackncold -- What is the dumbest game show?
The However-Many-Thousand Dollar Pyramid. Damn I hated that shit.
This newfangled Suitcase Full of Money game. As far as I can tell, it's an hour-long version of that TPIR punch-the-beehive game. Man, Punching the Beehive needs to become a common masturbation euphamism STAT.
Any game that involves Stand-up "Comedians" punishing contestants with the threat of laughter.
Shop 'Till You Drop. All the tedium of Supermarket Sweep, none of the giant inflatable Mr. Peanut bonus things.
friendship7 -- What is so hard about returning a phone call?
Fat fingers. If only there were some sort of special dialing wand.
Performance anxiety. Knowing one is expected to call back adds a layer of stress thick enough to cripple the callee into inaction.
Laziness. Returning a call is at least 8 more buttons to push than if you just wait around for the caller to call again.
Commitment phobia. If the call is returned, what sort of psycho-stalker message is that sending to the caller?
renob423 -- why is green the coolest color ever?
It's purple's arch-enemy...and best friend.
What other color is synonymous with one of the Seven Deadly Sins (ok, besides red).
All the heart-healthy antioxidants.
It's often the last pawn chosen and therefore the renegade underdog of colors.
soarjubs -- Regis Philbin crashes through the front window of your favorite dining location. He is sporting a trim Arthurian beard, a full suit of plate armor, and one kick-ass dragony-looking lance. He demands fealty or death. What is the right move?
Death, schmeath. The lance and the armor are simply to intimidate the weak. Philbin challenges his foes with the same caliber questions as on Who Wants to be a Millionaire. And we all know how easy that is.
Fealty. Between his bobblehead talk show and whatever other pies he's got his fingers in, we are all slaves to the Reeg'. We may as well own up to it.
Death. If you look closely at the lance, you'll see he's named it The Lifeline. There's no getting out of that.
Pay the check and get the hell out of there.
Special Guest question: If I can't see the forest for the trees, What the hell am I looking at?
Lots and lots of bugs.
A great big field.
I dunno, but if a tree falls down someplace you can't see the forest for, does it make a sound?
Since I'm preoccupied with my new job, let's do a quick workplace style survey. When you first get into work, do you:
Greet all nearby co-workers with a grinning good-morning and indulge in conversation about last night's network programming or something equally benign for early morning.
Grumble whatever morning acknowledgement is necessary to prevent social scrutiny.
Turn on computer, retreive coffee, speak to no one voluntarily before 10am.
How do you prefer to spend your lunch hour?
In the breakroom or some out-of-office eating locale with as many of your preferred co-workers as possible.
In the breakroom or some out-of-office eating locale enjoying a book or a crossword in solitude.
Out of the office performing some other mundane task such as shopping or working out, consuming food either as quickly as possible or while working before or after your break.
Eating at your desk, catching up on the internets.
You're running 5-15 minutes late for work. Upon arrival, do you:
Not sweat it. They don't give a shit and they know you'll make up the time.
Sneak in, hoping nobody noticed.
Call your boss and tell them you're running late.
Arrive at work with fanfare, spouting some elaborate story about the thousand reasons beyond your control that prevented your timely arrival.
It's 10 minutes to quitting time. You have finished the project at hand or have reached an appropriate stopping point. Do you:
Start a new project or continue the old one for 10 more minutes.
Wait out the clock with an email or two.
Slowly go to the bathroom and tidy your workspace.
My desk/workspace is:
Immaculate. The bigwigs are real hardons about office upkeep.
Immaculate. I can't function in a chaotic environment.
Tidy. I'm neither a neatfreak nor a slob.
A disaster. I have too much shit to do to be spending any of my time cleaning up.
A disaster. But a disaster that makes perfect sense to me.
A disaster. I'm a mess and I know it.