I couldn't think of anything to write. So I stole a survey from Ronni. Check it out:
Seven years ago, it was Fall 1998.....
How old were you?
I was 20 (21 on Devil’s Night!) years old physically, but mentally I was 12. Now I am 27 (28 on Devil’s Night!), but mentally I am 10. So things are getting better!
What grade were you in?
I was in my second sophomore year of college. I believe this was the year I majored in Physics then Electrical Engineering, then Computer Science, then history for a week, then Accounting, and finally Information Systems.
Where did you go to school?
Across the street from where I lived.
Where did you work?
Where I lived. I was an RA in the dorms at Wright State University. Some might call it a CA, but I call it an RA, because whenever you call it CA, people look at you like you just insulted their mother.
Where did you live?
The thing about this job is that it was where I lived. So I was always at work. I could be in my room, performing my rendition of Mozart’s Eine Kline NachtMusick on the kazoo (as I am wont to do on occasion…I play a mean kazoo), and somebody would knock on the door with their pathetic problems. Of course I would have to help them, and that meant I was not able to finish my favorite part of the second movement.
How was your hair style?
Had it not been for this job, I could have gone professional, and taken up a drug habit like any self-respecting classical musician.
Did you wear braces?
Just think of it! I could have come up with a nickname like “The mad Kazooer,” and my drunken exploits qould have made the cover of every newspaper from Newcomerstown, Ohio to Dog’s Breath, Idaho. “Musical genius caught Kazoodling with sorority babes!” Ah, the life I could have had.
Did you wear contacts?
The trouble with all of that, though, is that the party would have eventually come to an end. All night binge kazooing takes its toll, especially for a person with large appetites. Eventually, I would have gone to rehab to kick the coke and beer habit. I would have returned to society a productive member of society. Unfortunatley, I would have had to give up my previous profession as a master kazooist in order to lead a clean and sober life.
Did you wear glasses?
Things would have been fine for a while. I would have more than likely opened a specialty kazoo shop, and I would have spent my evenings sitting on the porch telling the neighborhood kids about the time I wowed audiences with my spectacular interpretations of the entirety of Nikkolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s work, which I would have entitled “the annoying Buzz: in Russian!”
Who was your best friend?
It would be a good life, a fine life. But it would not be enough.
Who was your boyfriend/girlfriend?
I would more than likely have spent several sleepless nights staring at the ceiling, thinking of the time I had spent in the spotlight; the time when music meant something to me; when I meant something to music.
Who was your celebrity crush?
Unbeknownst to my beautiful wife (a former Dallas Cowboys cheerleader and yoga instructor), I would have crafted the greatest kazoo ever seen by the eyes of men.
Who was your regular-person crush?
It’s perfect angles and rounded curves would speak to me in the watches of the night, begging to be played.
Were you a virgin?
One night, when I could no longer bear the thought of a life without music, I would have taken the magical kazoo to a field underneath a wide expanse of stars, and I would have played angelic notes of beauty and annoying buzzes of grandeur.
How many piercings did you have?
This would be my practice, my secret I had kept from the world, my beautiful wife, and all sixteen mistresses.
How many tattoos did you have?
But lies will out, as the great poet Whats Hisface once said, and eventually one of the local children would hear my notes of beauty from afar and come out into the field to investigate.
What was your favorite band?
Slowly but surely, an audience would form. Children from all over town would gather in the field underneath the stars to hear my magical kazoo craft the music of the angels.
What was your biggest fear?
Parents, wondering where there children had gone, would come as well, and they would stand in rapt silence as beauty poured forth from my magical kazoo.
Had you smoked a cigarette yet?
My wife would not be pleased. “Think of all you have been through,” she would say. “The parties. The binge drinking. Naked kazoodling atop the Sears tower.”
Had you gotten drunk or high yet?
And she would begin to cry. “Do you want to go back to that,” she would say.
Had you driven yet?
”It’s who I am, baby,” I would say. “It can be good this time. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it now. ”
If so what car(s) did you use?
The local media would pick up the story, followed by the national and then international outlets. “The Mad Kazooer makes his return,” they would say. “When will he play for the world?”
Which of your pets were alive?
The stage would be set for my great return. Thousands of people would purchase tickets. Television stations across the globe would battle for rights to broadcast the annoyingly buzzing sounds of beauty that emanated from my magic kazoo.
Which members of your family were alive?
But others would show. Old friends. Reminiscence of times past. “Just a little taste” they would say. “For old times. Good, old times.”
Which members of your family were not born yet?
But I would shun them. “No!” I would scream. “I am above your petty ways. GET BEHIND ME!” And lo, I would administer the fist of truth and the backhand of justice in and throughout the crowd of rabble rousers who had sought to destroy me.
Did you know the person who posted this right before you?
The concert would have been a marvelous success and the world would have been my oyster. Or, failing that, my burrito. I’m not a big fan of oysters. They are slimy and icky and they attack you in all the wrong places. In fact, there was this one time I got into a battle with a large and scary oyster off the coast of Belize. It is a harrowing tale of valor and glory, and you would enjoy it immensely.
….but that is for another time.