The surest sign of a desperate blogger....

....is filling out a questionaire. On Friday, to boot. This one is from Lynn Sislo.

1. What is your favorite word? I suppose it would depend on the mood, right? I like "Golden" and "Mists". I enjoy the sound of "Mellifluous". I don't know, really -- I tend to like combinations of words more than specific words.

2. What is your least favorite word? Copacetic. I can't stand this word, especially when three or four years ago, all of a sudden, everybody was using it for some strange reason. (Like Lynn, I'm not enamored of "blog" either, but I've long since conceded that one.)

3. What turns you on (inspires you)? Good food; a story well told; a fine musical phrase; a city skyline at night; mountains; trees; ships -- both sea and spacefaring. A lot of things inspire me, I guess.

4. What turns you off? Management-speak. You people with jobs know what I'm talking about.

5. What sound do you love? All of them, really. Sounds are cool.

6. What sound do you hate? Anything over the PA system at Wal-Mart.

7. What is your favorite curse word? Well, I'm not proud of this, but the big M.F., probably. Although I've trained myself to not so much say it as mouth it forcefully. Also, in keeping with my admiration for all things Red Foreman, I'm very fond of "dumb ass".

8.What profession other than yours would you like to attempt? Hmmmmm. Don't know, really. Writing isn't my profession yet, but I'm already attempting it; and thus far I'm perfectly happy sweeping the floor at the grocery store. I could say that I wouldn't mind being a professor of something, but I've seen the crap that goes on in academia; likewise, I admire chefs like Emeril Lagasse and all those other folks, but the idea of working seventy to ninety hour weeks, putting in at least six days, doesn't appeal to me one whit. I guess I'd love to get paid for reading, but that's not really a profession.

9. What profession would you not like to participate in? There are many, actually. Law. Actual telemarketing, of the "Call people at home at dinnertime" variety. Air traffic control.

10. Presupposing that Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? "Hey there, I've been waiting for you. Pull up a chair so we can watch The Phantom Menace on my home theater system." Then he'd lean forward, wink, and whisper, "And boy, do all those wankers who continually bash George Lucas have a surprise in store when they kick the bucket. Heh heh heh!" And then he'd take me to meet Hector Berlioz; and he'd let me watch Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Gregory Hines, et al in rehearsal; and....well, I don't know. I generally don't think much about Heaven. I just think it would be one cosmic moment in which I finally get it, you know?