This is what happens to memes who don’t look both ways before crossing the street

Just as a disclaimer, this is not to knock anyone who fills/filled this meme out. I was just in a strange and contrary mood one day… I didn’t do the whole meme, either, since my witty-well ran dry. If you actually want the whole meme to fill out in earnest, I can provide it to you, but it seems unlikely that anyone suffers from a lack of available memes… Anyway, enjoy 🙂

1) What would you like to say to the first person you kissed this year?
Does anyone really take this opportunity to open up a can of spank-my-ego on some poor schmuck they’ve broken up with? “Why, yes, you’re a douchehound, Elbert, the baby is your sister’s and your dog is a better lay!” Isn’t this question really an underhanded attempt to test the quality of my personal judgment — one point if I can remember it, 2 points if I’m still happily dating them, -(4/month) if I’m not, -5 if the comment involves parentage or children. This way Strangermouse the Random Reader can assess my dateability by reading what I have to say to some random pair of lips at a New Year’s Party.

2) Why is the last reason you cried?
Because WordPad sucks Cthulu weenie smothered with atomic crap sauce? If I’ve cried, and Strangermouse thinks it’s a stupid reason, I’m a sentimental bag of wet shrimp chips. If I say I don’t cry, I’m either emotionally stunted, lying, or suffering from an extreme case of machismo brought on by testosterone poisoning.

3) Where is your cell phone?
Tucked safely in its patented snoggle pouch, where no one can drain the poor precious battery? There are really only two choices here: either I have it within 5 feet of my person, thereby implying that if you call and I don’t answer it’s because I hate your stinking guts and wish you would just go eat worms and die; or I’ve left it at home which means that a) I’m a twinkie brained sock puppet with the life skills of an autistic frog, AND b) that you should call me and tell me something of vital importance, so that when I find out too late, you can insinuate that if I were a reall good person/friend/fortune cookie quality control engineer I would have had it with me, at all times.

4) Did you like NSYNC or Backstreet Boys?
I love the past tense here — because if you still do like to listen to their music then you are obviously so hopelessly far behind that you can’t possibly be using a computerized device, let alone figure out how to fill out a meme questionnaire. Also the assumption that you MUST have liked one of them, otherwise you are obviously so hopelessly behind etc., etc.

5) Where did you sleep last night?
Why do you want to know? To establish my sluthood? My homelessness? Perhaps you want to ascertain that, yes, I did in fact get so drunk last night that I slept in the kitchen with my head in the stock pot, using my stash of plastic grocery bags as blankets. Perhaps you think I am unclean, and wish to avoid contact with any surface I may have sweated upon. Perhaps you think I am an alien, and are trying to trick me into tripping up and betraying my xenogenic nature. Perhaps you are genuinely concerned for the remote possibility that I may have insomnia, because you have just found the perfect cure, and are desperately, albeit misguidedly, in search of places to share your newfound knowledge. Perhaps you are planning to stalk me, and would like to avoid the laborious process of personally establishing my daily routine through the employ of a clever questionnaire. Whatever. You can suck it.

6) What time did you go to sleep last night?
Again with the stalking questions. Really, if you are so intent on stalking me, I am going to have to insist that you make the effort of doing all the legwork involved in observing and spying on me in order to establish my daily routine. Also, if you are trying to ascertain whether I was asleep, or ignoring you vis-a-vis hating your stinking guts and wanting you to just eat worms and die, perhaps a more staightforward and less passive aggressive method of interrogation would be better suited to obtaining the answers you so ardently seek.

7) What time did you wake up today?
Ah, the question that establishes that my penis is larger than yours because I am more manly and disciplined and got my manly hairy butt out of bed before you did, thereby winning the pissing contest you wish to foist upon me, unsuspecting. Well, you have been found out, therefore your wish to subjugate me via arbitrary standards of morality based on trivial habits will have to go unfulfilled. Also, your penis is a priori larger than mine, because I am a woman.

8) Are you excited for the future?
Do you mean 5 seconds from now, or 5 years? A week, or a decade? The vagueness of your questions troubles me, therefore stealing the moment to moment exultant expectation I so carefully cultivate. Therefore the question instantly causes a decidedly negative answer, you depressing fucker.

9) Your last ex shows up randomly at your house, what do you say?
I am not in the habit of receiving letters of the alphabet in my home unannounced. Seeing as I use letters so frequently and with such wild abandon, I would be hard pressed to recognize the last ex I used as such, and this would likely result in an embarassingly uncomfortably scene in which the ex regards me with certain expectations, while I regard it with an air of baffled regret that I am wholly unable to fulfill said expectations.
Oh, you mean a person! Well, I would have a great deal to talk about with them, if he or she is not my husband, because they will have a great deal to tell me about what the future holds, how I meet them, and how it is that my last such earthly relationship is ended.

10) Do you secretly like anyone?
My dear, I am a very nearly 33. In the even that I am somehow enamored, romantically, platonically, or otherwise, of a person with whom I cannot share this information, or at the very least tell my husband that I have such feelings coursing unbridled through my veins, then it is only a matter of time before I forget that I felt that way at all. I don’t have secrets, as such, only things I’ve forgotten that no one can remind me of at an embarassingly inopportune time. Which is really a win-win situation, when you think about it.

11) Do you have any weird inside jokes?
Well, my spleen is a rather strange looking thing, but I have no permanently internalized jocularity that I know of. Which brings to mind the interesting question of what a “wierd inside joke” might look like when it escapes the confines in which it is imprisoned. Is it a chest-burster, a la Alien, that bears an eerie resemblence to Gabriel Iglesias, or would it be more like Freddie from Nightmare on Em Street, as played by Steve Martin?

12) What is a common thing that happens to you on the weekends?
Well, other than the alien abductions, the wild parties with various ever-so-slightly skanky celebrties, and the hammer-and-tongs battle for porch supremacy with the local waterfowl, mostly I make toast. Is my weekend interesting enough for you? Do I meet or exceed your expectations for a potential acquaintance, friend, or permanent cell mate? VALIDATE ME, FOR THE LOVE OF GODZILLA, I CRAVE YOUR APPROVAL LIKE A BEAR EMERGING FROM HIBERNATION NEEDS A GOOD, ROUGH TREE!

13) When was the last time someone yelled at you?
For what value of “to yell” are you expecting an answer? There is the obvious, high-decibel expression of frustration, explosive displeasure, which would indicate a home life exhibiting stress and anger management issues, either instigated by me (ergo, I am a Difficult Person) or not (ergo, I am either damaged or manipulating.) Next, there is the metaphorical yell, expressing protracted displeasure in an otherwise normal tone of voice, in a tense or unhappy emotional environment, again instigated by me (ergo, I am controlling) or not (I am confrontation avoidant, and melodramatic.) Last, there is the non-emotionally loaded, high-decibel communication, which implies I am either deaf (damaged), come from a loud family (undesirable) or live in an excessively large home (privileged brat.)

14) I am __
I shall wait with bated breath until you finish that sentence. With such an inspiring beginning, one cannot hope but expect greatness to follow. Unless you are trying to tell me that you are flat, in which case I shall remind you that this is the livejournal, dear Strangermouse McStalkersons, no one can hear you singing.

15) Have you ever been given an engagement ring?
As much as I would like to be the kind of person to whom jewelry stores are the habit of making gifts, I am not. However, given that such a person that is a rare and lucky person indeed, I can see why you would employ so very clever a ruse to seek them out, so that you can perhaps befriend them, burgle them, or obtain hair or nail clippings from them to use in voodoun rituals intended to transfer such luck to your own person. Should it be the latter, I advise against such practices, because the loas can be tricksy entities, and are not likely to grant your wish in quite the way you deem fit.

16) Have you ever tried to break someone up?
An interesting proposition, but given that I am not actually endowed with the upper body strength of an orangutan, and admitting that such an endeavor, even were the victim initally frozen, is eventually a messy one, I would have to posit that not only have I not done so, I am unlikely to ever be able to do so.

17) When was the last time you talked to one of your best friends?
Ah, so you are looking to find out whether my tendency is to travel in a pair or in a pack! I am on to you, you creepy quasi-naturalist, with your carefully worded stalker-y questions. If it has not been in a long time, I am either a pack-person, or I am frigid, hard to talk to, and largely friendless. If it was too recently, I am a pair person, or obsessively exclusive in my relationships, and therefore should be avoided.

18) Have you done anything you regret in 2008 so far?
While your interesting attempt to misdirect any suspicion cast on the question by spuriously limiting regrets to the past intrigues me, I am again on to your attempts to armchair psychoanalyze me, and rate my suitability for acquaintanceship / friendship / accomplicehood / keeping in the basement as a amusement for rainy Tuesdays. If I say yes, then I am in the habit of making poor decisions, especially given that it is only May. If I say no, then I am obviously a habitual liar, because every human being regrets at least that dodgy curry they ate last Tuesday.

19) Where is your best friend?
If you are attempting to ascertain whether or not I possess the emotional depth necessary to have such a person in my life, then perhaps your question should be framed in a more direct manner. As it is, I fear that you have misplaced her, and that I will have to mount a search and rescue mission in order to ensure that she does not perish from separation from the necessities of life, such as water, chocolate, or novels, trashy or otherwise.

20) Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months without cheating?
Assuming that we are speaking of the traditional models of interspecies relationships, and restricting the conversation further to those conducted in a romantic sense with preconditions of exclusivity and long-term intention, I presume that you are again attempting to ascertain what, precisely, my fitness for such a relationship is. If I say yes, then I am worthy, relationship material, a suitable vessel for your intentions, liquid, embryotic, or otherwise. If I say no — and, really, does anyone ever actually admit to this, given how utterly stigmatized the unrestricted enjoyment of the bodies of others is — then I am morally reprehensible, psychologically damaged, and probably infected with something that will make your naughty bits itch unspeakably.

21) Who was the last person to make you laugh?
If I were the sort of person who kept close track of this sort of thing, would I also be the sort of person to share that information freely? Besides, you have left unspecified the exact value of laughter you are seeking. If the last person who made me laugh was Homeless Ned, as he was dismembered by a high-speed bus, will you not value that differently than if I say it was my mother, circa 1938? Perhaps I laugh only at the antics of drunken octopi, and am therefore unfit for human wit? Or perhaps I am hopelessly narcissistic, and only find humor when I immediately retell a joke I have just been presented with, only better?

22) Anything annoying you right now?
I have to say that Anything and I enjoy a relaxed and cordial relationship, and Anything will do what Anything will do. Nothing, on the other hand, is nasty crotchety old bugger who keeps putting marbles in my shoes and chewing with it’s mouth open.

23) Is there any emotion you’re trying to avoid right now?
So that you can therefore label me emotionally unavailable? These traps that you so cleverly set, I am on to them! I narrowly avoided Twitterpation on the sidewalk this morning, but that was wholly unintentional, and largely due to the machinations of Hurried, who is a stern taskmaster about getting places on time.

24) Have you been in love?
Everyone has been in love. Were I six, I would have said yes, because I was sure that Patrick and I would go on to have a wondrous life long love affair, despite the fact that he encourage me to steal things and was a good 2 inches shorter than I. Even at the tenderest of ages, I was deeply enamored of potatoes. This question hinges on a very particular implicit value of love that is nearly mythical in its conference of status. People only ever say no in hindsight, and even then their intention is probably to hurt the feelings of someone they perceive having done them wrong rather than any actual admission.

25) Have you done anything embarrassing lately?
Whatever gives you the idea that I would then proceed to regale you with the soulcurdling, heart-poisoning hilarity of such an event? But I must, of course, say yes, otherwise I am either lying, in which case I am inage obsessed, or I am shameless, in which case you cannot bring me home to meet your parents in the event that I give in the the temptation to shape my mashed potatoes into a phallus, using the peas to indicate the exact placement of the crabs I then announce loudly that I found upon your genitalia.

26) Do people make fun of your nationality?
People where? I am sure that the people of France have a great deal of derogatory material to hurl in my general direction, but I can’t say as how your average Schmuck from Des Moines would naturally possess the witty, wry self-deprecation to make fun of both me and themselves at one go. Unless you are once again attempting to use stalker shortcuts to determine if I am correctly genetically configured for your unwanted attentions, and also if I am part of a nationality that is prone to large packs of hairy male relatives who will feel a moral obligation to avenge my honor.

27) Do you drink?
Out of biological necessity, I would venture to say that all living people do. It’s a funny thing that happens when you try to give it up cold turkey. First you hallucinate, then your organs begin to fail, and then you die. While that sounds like an adventure and half, I shall remain craven and retain my claim on H2O in it’s various modes of proliferation.

28) Where do you get your money?
Vito. He charges a monster foreign ATM fee, but man, is he *convenient.*

29) Ever talked to someone that was high?
Seeing as my husband is 6’6″, I do so on a fairly regular basis. Or are you once again trying to establish my relationship viability by making summary judgments about my choice of friends. Ther permutations here are labyrinthine, and depend heavily on your own feelings about the use of illicit substances. If you are opposed, and I say yes, then I consort with layabouts and hoodlums, and am therefore morally reprehensible and socially unclean. If you are in favor, and I say no, then I am stultifyingly dull and probably have a giant tree branch up my rectal repository, and am therefore morally paralyzed and socially frigid. Because, let’s face it, if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t ask.

30) Dark hair or light hair in the opposite sex?
As a general rule, I like hair on the people’s exteriors. People with hair *in* them are, I imagine, rather uncomfortable and perhaps nauseated. Also, if it is inside them, then the color is largely irrelevant, unless you are referring to nose and ear hair, in which case I feel compelled to point out that anyone who predicates their desire for a potential mate on the color of the follicles found in their auditory and.or nasal passages has issues that I dare not even begin to contemplate.

31) Did you have a dream last night?
No, I eat dreams for breakfast, solely. They are fantastic fuel for the misanthropic personality, and therefore do tend rather to keep one awake at night if eaten anytime after noon. Something I’ve learned the hard way, thank you very much.

32) Last comment you left someone?
What kind of memory do you think I have? I cannot possibly be expected to remember every single thing I have ever said, especially things said casually in passing such as comments. I mean, really! I could perhaps remember the last lecture, rant, or pedantic chiding, but certainly not the last offhand, top of my head reaction to whatever it is they were nattering on about. Also, unless you know that person, I cannot imagine that an out of context phrase or sentence is any of your business whatsoever. If you do know that person, and were not there to witness the event, are you stalking them that you must record every miniscule detail of their daily interactions? In which case, I must refer you to the above insistences that you do your own stalker legwork, ya lazy bum.

33) Do you have a facebook?
Not being a purveyor of modeling, acting, or otherwise shallow-aesthetics-predicated talent, I do not keep a book full of the pictures of people I do not know. If I did, I would perhaps suggest taking up a new hobby, perhaps one not designed to obsess over the aesthetic perfections I don’t share with people I don’t know. Books full of pictures of people I do know who are perhaps less than Helen of Troy quality beauty are called “photo albums.” I do not keep those either, largely due to the whole concept of “evidence,” because if it were available knowledge that I knew these people, certain questions might come up as to the exact ways in which they met/will meet their unique demises.

34) What color is your underwear?
Again with the stalker questions. Seriously, unless you are willing to get up at an ungodly hour of the day in order to be prepared to break in to my apartment at any time and install the video cameras, bugs, and other such surveillance equipment necessary to find out all of this information on your own, you are hardly a worthy or appropriate stalker for one such as I.