How do you get rid of pesky phone calls from telemarketers?
By saying as many completely stupid things as it takes.
What are you a “natural” at doing?
Saying completely stupid things.
How often do you get a haircut?
I don’t like to admit this and I certainly don’t brag about it, but most of the time I cut my hair myself. It’s only hair, and it’s a pretty simple cut. I’m familiar with its licks and quirks and how it grows. It has to be left a little longer on the top where it’s thin and grows slowly, and thinned out like crazy in the back where its thick and grows fast. Some hair dressers get this. Others get it backwards and then wonder why I have a mullet in a couple of weeks. I have a different definition of a “trim” than they do and it does not include words like “scalping” or “buzz cut”. I can trim other people’s hair, so why not my own? I have excellent hair cutting scissors and a trimmer with different attachments. I do the back with the help of a mirror. Eventually my trimmed up locks get to the point where a professional needs to deal with them. Hey, I pay them good money, they should have to work for it, right?
Since I no longer go to work or have to do something with my hair in a hurry every day, I have been letting it dry naturally and wave and curl and do whatever it wants. So far, no small children have been traumatized (as far as I know.)
What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word “fun”?
If you were expecting it might be “saying completely stupid things to telemarketers” you would be wrong. That’s not fun for either one of us, really. But spending time with family, where the stupid things you’ve said can be repeated and laughed at – that’s fun. My artwork is fun. So is blogging and reading and playing word games and staying at home and relaxing. I’m not very high maintenance, I guess.
Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week to come?
I am grateful for a quiet New Years Eve, a warm and cozy house that keeps out the bitter cold, new movies on Netflix and my charcoal pencils. It’s been lovely to watch the magpies coming and going in the big black spruce tree across the road, and to catch a glimpse of the white jack rabbit making fresh footprints in the snow.
I don’t know what I’m looking forward to. Certainly not calls from telemarketers. By now they probably have our number on their lost causes list anyway.
Imagine that you’re blind, but you have been granted one day to see. What day would you choose? A day from the past? Today? A day in the future?
If I had to do this I suppose I would choose today just to get it over with. Starting right now. Because the first thing I’d like to do is look that deluded sight-granter in the eyes and tell him what I think of his stupid gift. Unless its some kind of punishment or a cruel joke, in which case it all makes more sense.
Not to appear ungrateful or anything but why would you want to do that to someone? What a terrifying experience for me if I’ve been blind since birth. Twenty four hours of trying to cope with a whole new reality and then back to the way things were. Except for the nightmares.
And what a crushing blow if I’ve lost my sight, accepted my blindness and learned to deal with all the changes and then suddenly I get my sight back for a measly DAY just to have to give it up all over again.
There’s a reason why strange things like this aren’t possible and bizarre wishes don’t come true. When you’re given a choice of this hell or that one, your third choice should always be ‘neither of the above’, thank you very much, please go away now and leave me alone. Inflict your miracles on somebody who asked for them.
Would you ever participate in a food eating contest? What kind? How much do you think you could eat?
Well this is one of the weirdest prompts ever. The only reason I’m answering it at all is because it will be my 198th answer and I would like to see “You’ve written 198 answers” under the “Your stats” heading. Then, for all you math impaired people out there, what that means is that I will have two more answers to go to reach the magic number of 200 answers written. One hundred was a mind-blowing accomplishment, so I expect double that to be doubly so. I’ve always suspected that I could blather away ad nauseam on any number of topics, and I think 200 posts is certainly proof positive that I was right about that, if nothing else.
And here’s another ‘stat’. Approximately one out of every 7 questions has actually been worth answering. That means I have made 28.1429 posts which have been vaguely interesting and worth reading since my relationship with Plinky began. You could go back and read them all and figure out which ones they are if you want. I can’t seem to drum up the motivation to do it.
So, let’s discuss this hypothetical contest. What kind, they want to know. Are there really different categories of competitive food eating? Like speed eating, the eating disorder challenge, the cheesecake tournament, the dog eat dog match of the century? And how much do I think I could eat? Oh, I don’t know. My weight in frozen yogurt maybe? I guess I could say any bizarre amount of anything since it’s supposed to be what I ‘think’ and therefore there can be no wrong answers.
But let’s be serious for a moment. The terms and conditions under which I would participate in a food eating contest are as follows:
1. I have not had any solid food for a week and I am starving. To death. To the point where dead bugs are starting to look tasty.
2. The prize for winning is a bazillion dollars and a dream home in the Galapagos.
3. The prize for participating is a million dollars and a beach front villa in Lemery Batangas.
4. The food is not hot dogs.
5. The event is not televised and my real identity is never revealed.
So, I guess what THAT means is – the answer is no.
I have a big mouth and a terrible habit of talking about people when they’re not around, being sarcastic and rude, and pointing out all the things I find infinitely irritating and stupid.
It’s a nasty job, but somebody’s gotta do it.
I really and truly try to stop myself from being negative and judgemental. Especially when in the grand scheme of things it makes no difference what I think. Often the person I’m blathering away to couldn’t care less. So why do I do it? It doesn’t make anything better. It often makes a bad situation worse.
Before I start talking I try to imagine if I would ever say such a thing if the person in question could hear me. If the answer is NO, then I know it’s time to shut up.
If you are the sort of person who needs to use a stupid pick up line to start a conversation, and the person you’re using it on is impressed by that, then the two of you probably deserve each other.
I was thin, but I thought I was fat; smart, but I thought I was stupid.
Unhappy, although there was no good reason to be so.
Gorgeous, and I had no idea.
Shut up and listen! Must have been my parents who gave me that advice, and it’s definitely good for anybody who wants to learn anything and can actually pull it off for a couple of minutes.
I expect to truly know what was the BEST advice I ever received I’d have had to, at some point in my life, actually listened to what preachy people were saying to me. And then it would probably have been a good idea to act on that counsel in one way or another to test it out and discover if it was good or bad or just plain stupid. Could be that my biggest problem is never asking for anyone’s opinion, (being so very busy expressing my own) and thus I fear I might not recognize good advice if I tripped over it.
If I dig down really deep I think I do remember someone saying to me when I was little that I should do what I knew in my heart to be the right thing. Just go with those gut feelings. Trust and believe in yourself. No one knows you better than you know yourself and no one has to live with your conscience if you screw up royally except YOU.
I’m hoping that’s the reason why I don’t pay any attention to people who think they know what’s best for me, and that it’s not just some obstinate stubborn streak and a strong aversion to being told what to do. And even if it is, I’m never going to admit it.
So I guess that’s it – ultimately it’s pretty simple. Do what makes you happy. Nobody but you can figure out what that is.
And if you’re foolish enough to ask me for MY advice, well. Please, sit down, shut up, and start listening.