Raw Umber and Burnt Umber are the same damn color!
Wednesday, March 23rd, 2005If you’ve ever been to the Internet, chances are you’ve got an electronic mail inbox that’s just jam-packed with penis enlargement scams, Bush impeachment petitions, and Space Pirates Ltd. spam. These sorts of things are commonplace and easily dealt with, because 90 million times out of 100, they’re from strangers who won’t later send you a stream of WTF’s over an Instant Messenger correspondence about how you’re such an insensitive clot for deleting their emails. And since 90,000,000/100 is clearly a lot more than one, and not even a fraction, you’re usually in pretty good shape. No problem; just a quick tap of the ol’ deletin’ button and you’re fresh on your way. What are more difficult to write off right off the bat are surveys; for surveys almost always come from those you know. I don’t want to say loved ones, because frankly I’d ship my own mother to Mount Kill-A-Man-Jarro to work in the acid mines if she ever so much as dreamt of sending me a survey. No, surveys come from the itches you can’t quite scratch: the casual acquaintances that just won’t go away. You were friends with them for a bit until you realized how completely and utterly depressed it made you to think about their existence, that sort of thing. Now that you’ve successfully mulled down your relationships with said persons into casual Interweb chit-chat, all you’ve got to worry about are their surveys.
It’s been a good long while since I’ve actually received a survey, but after a quick glance at one on the Livejournal of someone who used to send them to me on an almost weekly basis, and witnessing what were quite possibly the most lethargic fucking responses I’ve ever seen, I realized that not everyone on the Internet may have experienced the sharp, agonizing spearhead that I feel twisting in my sides each time I read a question on these many-facetted circuits of pain. I simply could not allow the web surfers whom I love so dearly to miss out on such an opportunity, so I’ve decided to fill one out for you. Feel free to copy and paste it and send it back to me with your responses, because I really would deeply like to know what type of pizza you prefer and how many heel-clicks you did outside the mall last night.
Name: Dave “Corporal Feelyat� Randle
Birthday: August 2nd 1985
Birthplace: Scranton Pennsylvania, also the birthplace of fear as we know it today
Current Location: Baltimore, or as the locals call it, Syphilitown
Eye Color: You won’t need eyes to see where we’re going.
Hair Color: Hair
Height: The height of a stack of celery, piled high to meet the might of a man.
Right Handed or Left Handed: Hands
Your Heritage: German/Scotch/English
The Shoes You Wore Today: Shoes
Your Weakness: Feelyat
Your Fears: Tranks, Lo-boes, Zip Heads, The Grimace
Your Perfect Pizza: Thanks. I sure am.
Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year: Goal
Your Most Overused Phrase On an instant messenger: I am the angel of death. Those who would kneel before me may receive mercy, but only if I deem them worthy. Those who would fight me shall meet with a new breed of fear, one from which they will never recover. EOM kthx
Thoughts First Waking Up: I don’t recall having three arms…
Your Bedtime: Whenever arm surgery time ends.
Your Most Missed Memory: Come back when you have a question that makes any fucking sense.
Pepsi or Coke: Bubba Cola
McDonalds or Burger King: Food
Single or Group Dates: Fellatio
Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Fellatio
Chocolate or Vanilla: Fellatio
Cappuccino or Coffee: Fellatio
Do you Smoke: No
Do you Swear: Fellatio
Do you Sing: Like a marmot
Do you Shower Daily: Fellatio
Have you Been in Love: With fellatio
Do you want to go to College: lol whuts that?
Do you want to get Married: No. Fellatio!
Do you believe in yourself: Oh, it’s one of those surveys.
Do you get Motion Sickness: Only during fellatio
Are you a Health Freak: Gleek, Creek, Sneak
Do you get along with your Parents: What an important question!
Do you like Thunderstorms: Almost as much as fellatio
Do you play an Instrument: The Jew Harp. For Jews.
In the past month have you
Drank Alcohol: Ah, now comes the part where I incriminate myself on the Internet! Splendid!
Smoked: Again
Drugs: Yet again
smoked weed: Hit me gravy one more time
gone on a Date: Of course not! I’m on the Internet!
gone to a Mall: What a great question!
eaten a box of Oreos: eaten a box of Fellatio (fixed)
eaten Sushi: Food
been on Stage: Pass the Snausages
been Dumped: Life is pain. Life is only pain. Wah wah wah.
gone Skinny Dipping: I love it when questions are categorized.
Stolen Anything: Which category is this?
Ever been Drunk: Who the hell is this?
Ever been called a Tease: Mabel?
Ever been Beaten up: Ross?
Ever Shoplifted: Well, you already asked if I’d stolen anything, but I guess this is sort of almost a different question. It’s a good thing you hid it way down here so I wouldn’t notice.
How do you want to Die: It involves a turbine, an arena, and dinosaurs. Use your imagination.
What do you want to be when you Grow Up: No. Seriously, who is this? Francis?
What country are you most likely to visit: Fellatia
In a Guy
Favourite Eye Color: Here are your eyes.
Favourite Hair Color: It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s constantly spinning.
Hair: It doesn’t matter, as long as it never spins.
Height: 8’23.7. Sorry guys, that’s all that’ll cut it for this dame.
Weight: 823.7 grams. This must be coupled with the above height.
Best Clothing Style: The retro grunge transformer look
Number of Drugs I have taken: What? In – in a guy?
Number of CDs I own: What? In – in a guy?
Number of Piercings: What? In – in a guy?
Number of Tattoos: What? In – in a guy?
Number of things in my Past I Regret: Twelve. I’m glad this question asked a number, rather than asking something in my past that I regret. Otherwise I might’ve had to answer a real question.
OK, feel that? It hurts, doesn’t it? Think of how much time you just wasted. Seems like a lot, doesn’t it? Now imagine doing one of these every week. Congratulations; you’re one step closer to hitting Internet.
