1. If you could style yourself what would you choose as the accoutrements?
2. Ellen Greene’s wardrobe in “Pump up the Volume” or “Little Shop of Horrors”?
“Pump Up the Volume”
3. What is a word that you would like to soon see retire?
Unless it’s the head of special ops explaining to his superiors exactly what happened during the attack or a 3-year-old telling you precisely what happened when she fall down, the word “boom!” To put it simply, those using it to give a statement added emphasis? Please stop! Boom! Wait. Could it be that I now see the appeal? Oh god! What’s happening to me?! Wait. No, it’s still terrible.
4. Overrated is?
A significant other’s opinion on what not to wear. Here’s what you do ladies and gents, become really, really creative (limber up!) and extremely adept at having sex then abruptly stop having sex then ask if they give a shit about what you’re wearing. That should work.
5. What’s the easiest way for one to become an internet billionaire?
Create something that taps into a person’s inner most “The horrors of high school are fun!” and you can pretty much back up the Brink’s truck. Kenny Powers knows.
6. Who’s the most creative person you’ve ever been worn by?
The go-go dancer, whom after marrying the chronic halitotic, 75-year-old hedge funder realized that she had access to more money than she knew what to do with and so in true newly riche fashion, she hired Joe Cocker to serenade the closet every night before turning in.
7. I imagine this turned out to be a real coup! I mean, Joe Cocker serenading you?! Am I right?!
Honestly, the whole thing lost its luster on or around the fourth night. And if you really wanna know the truth, I think she was just trying to find any excuse to not have to turn in. Let’s just say, the 1-percenters are a kinky lot that only get kinkier and more limber — which is mind-boggling — with age. Do the math. And while we’re at it, let’s not forget poor Joe. Homey’s still trying to figure out how he ended up there.
8. If you were to start a band what would you name it?
It’s a toss up between Morning After Pill, Plan B and Emergency Contraception.
The twenty-something eavesdropper sitting in a cafe, behind her, a two-against-one conversation had by a triad of thirteen-year-old girls. The kind of girls who just can’t, refuse to pass by a mirror or window without checking to make sure their half-bun ponytails, mascara drenched eyes lashes, crotch-wedged jean shorts, and Aeropostal hoodies remain on point. One of the girls — the seemingly weakest of the crew — is going on about how the hottest guy in school likes her as the other two stare smirking daggers. The tone of the conversation gives the eavesdropper the feeling that this is gonna end like a mui mal “hunting knife to the back, hide the body in an obvious spot in the woods, leave behind a shit-ton of fingerprints and one pink hair extension, when questioned have the tone of someone being asked if they’re going to the Sadie Hawkins dance, appear more annoyed rather than ‘killing people is bad’ in mugshots”, Investigation Discovery segment. It takes everything inside of the eavesdropper to keep from turning around and telling the weak, odd man out, “Run, girl!” Suddenly the eavesdropper’s macabre thoughts are interrupted by three middle-aged, church-going birds at another table trying to come up with a super, Christ-friendly version of “Let’s Hear It for the Boys” for the summer jubilee. It’s a must the queen bee of this crew stand to sing aloud her suggestions, drowning out all other opinions (like always) with choreography to boot. Funnily enough, the tone of the conversation gives the eavesdropper the feeling that this too will end like a mui mal, “pink kettle bell to the head, overly sad and shocked when the detective informs them of the best friend’s slaying, all the while blood soaked clothes dance around on rinse in the washing machine, the night of the candlelight vigil the detective shows up to arrest their Chico wearing asses, mugshots aloof rather than remorseful, thank goodness the Lord forgives straight up homicide, we’re now head of cellblock 15’s bible study thus reinstating our place in heaven!” Investigation Discovery segment. Just as the eavesdropper’s about to imagine turning around to tell this queen bee to “Run, girl! Or mam or– Whatever, they’re gonna kill your insufferable, Cutlass Supreme driving ass with a kettle bell,” the queen bee’s husband steps into the thought bubble, holding the hand of his young booze-hound mistress, places a hand on the eavesdropper’s shoulder and says, “Why mess with fate and a primo insurance policy?” The eavesdropper pops out of the daydream, brow properly pinched. And there she is, wedged between the past, “Was I that horrible?” and the future, “Will I be that horrible? And if so, when will I become born again? I’d for sure suggest the Christ-freindly version of ‘Swimming Pools (Drank)’ for the summer jubilee and show this repressed crew how it’s done, son. Is ‘born again’ capitalized? I should Google that. I will Google that. I’m also calling an indefinite moratorium on Investigation Discovery.”