Opening the Old Oak Door To the Guv’ner’s Brain Basement

The truly awesome Miss Katrocket Radio gave me this meme type of thingy to answer so I thought I’d deviate from the office for a moment to enlighten you on the Guv’ner’s fascinating persona. I’m cross posting this to my Live Journal too because I’m a whore.

The rules: and here’s the guidelines to include in your post:

If you care to participate, leave me a comment saying “Interview me.” I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the questions. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

The five:

1. You are given the opportunity to earn five million dollars for one year of work. The catch? You have to be a tour guide for the Precious Moments Museum, and you have to be NICE and say NICE and POSITIVE things about Precious Moments for that entire year. You may not utter a single negative thing (or write, record, blog anything negative), both on the job and after hours. Do you take the job or forfeit? Why or why not?

Well naturally only an imbecile of great standing would turn that job down. The key here is the five million bucks ensuring I never had to work for degenerate fucksticks ever again and quite frankly I’d stick my granny with a branding iron and sell her to an Arab for five million bucks. (It’s ok, she’d be fine, she’s not Jewish or anything.) However, given the job itself I would have a set of tactical plans in place because obviously the urge to lapse from the agreement would be intense. Plus I would have one of those insulin pens handy that people with The Diabeetus use when their blood sugar gets too high. I would have my friend C., who is an electronics genius, wire me up with a contraption that zapped me every time a swear word so much as formed in my brain or if it detected an oncoming bout of sarcasm. Secondly, I’d wire my jaws shut and not talk at all if things got really dire. I’d record a nice little ditty about the museum on tape, beforehand and hand it out to visitors so I didn’t have to say a word. Thirdly, I would go home from work every night, in some sort of frightening zombie trance (as you’d imagine) and I’d drink Cuba Libres until I thought I was Dean Martin. Fourthly, I’d call in sick a lot. Fifthly (fifthly is a word?), at the end of my term I would unleash a sea of profanity so intense, entire continents would shake like Michael J. Fox at a Parkinson’s convention. Then I might go pipebomb the museum. You know, after they paid me.

2. Your ‘24’ moment has arrived: There’s a bomb somewhere in your home that cannot be found or dismantled, and you have five minutes to pack up and leave before it explodes. What goes and what stays?

Hmmm…Well. My cats go that goes without saying. People are generally enormous shits but animals are good spirits, loyal and kind – even ones that routinely wake you up at 3am every night to feed them “breakfast” or else they trash the living room. Then I’m thinking my passport might be a decent idea and my green card because that fucker was harder to get than it is to persuade Jessica Simpson to grasp the basic concept of tuna. I would then immediately throw my Dalek cookie jar out on the fire escape ready for the escape (who wouldn’t save the Dalek cookie jar, duh!?) and my photo albums. And that big bar of Cadbury’s I have in the fridge. Let’s get our priorities right immediately. Probably my iPod and laptop would come too, I mean all my friends live on my laptop after all. Oh yeah, then I might take my lovely boy El Codo. Depends on the mood I was in. I’m kidding, El C. I’d also escape butt naked therefore the thing I’d leave behind is my dignity. And my pants.

3. What’s your favourite scripture? Hahahahahahaha I’m totally kidding.

Thank the Lord. That gave me hives.

3. (for real this time) If your life is ever made into a made-for-TV movie, who would play you?

If my life was ever made into a made-for-TV movie I’d be played by Bruce Willis. Sure he’s a ton older than me and there’s that business of him having a penis (I guess, I haven’t looked) and no hair, but he would kick ass and might manage to make my life exciting, adding a few explosions here, a few terrorists there. Although he mightn’t be all that convincing in a dress and I’m not sure I’d like to find out. Hahaha, that suggested I ever wear a dress. Ha ha ha.

4. What has given you the most pleasure in this past year (July 2006-July 2007)?

In all honesty, this past year has sucked donkey balls. It’s been a never ending stream of poverty, frustration and I’ve had a friend die. Positives? A wealth of Irn Bru, a nice little sunny vacation at The Evil Queen’s house in Florida, the discovery of “On the Border” margarita mix and hanging out in “Vegas” with my Live Journal buddy Tony Spunk. And maybe that time some hobo pinched my ass on the train (I appreciated the attention).

5. You often write about your horrific work experiences a world of corporate incompetence – as a kid, what was your idea of a dream job?

When I was really little, I wanted to be a sky muffin. I mean an air hostess. Stewardess. Flight attendant??? WTF do they call themselves? Anyway. One of those. You see, I loved planes, everything about them, their huge size, their majesty, the roar the engines made, the fact they were going to exotic places…like Luton. And Detroit. I used to spend days at the airport with my dad watching planes take off and land. I guess he liked planes too. Either that or he had a thing for airports, I don’t know. So yeah. Then I got over the sky muffin phase and decided, why not start at the top so I wanted to be a pilot. This was going well until I realized that a) I sucked at most things mathematical. b) I sucked at science and c) I hate flying and need to be sedated before stepping onto a plane. Apparently airlines don’t like their pilots tranquilized. Well unless you want to work for Aeroflot. After that I think I just wanted to be a rock star and a writer. I still kind of have the aspiration for the latter. The former is a matter for me and the bedroom mirror only.

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5 Responses to “Opening the Old Oak Door To the Guv’ner’s Brain Basement”

  1. pistols at dawn Says:

    I disagree about animals generally being good. After all, my dog barks throughout dinner because somehow it thinks I’m supposed to feed it human food whenever it wants to eat. Also, it throws up and craps all over everything and never offers to clean up.

    And what does it offer in return? Conversation? Kindness? Love? No, it’s 0 for 3 there. It just kinda sits around, costs me money, and makes me spend half an hour cleaning up its puke. F that dog, I’d throw it at the fire.

  2. The Guv'ner Says:

    Well this is because:

    a) You are a grouchy old codger who is really 80.
    b) You have no heart just a blackened piece of burned steak where your heart would be if you weren’t a grouchy old codger
    c) You are trying to make the guv’ner kick your booty.

    /the Guv’ner would too.
    /your dog wants cake

  3. pistols at dawn Says:

    If that dog so much as vomits in the direction of my cake, I will turn it into cake.

    You are right on all counts and hilariously so. I wonder how grouchy I’ll be if I stop eating cake and actually make it to 80. I don’t think the world could handle that much complaining.

  4. The Guv'ner Says:

    I think, Mr. POD, that you at 80 is not only a frightening prospect but probably a sincerely AWESOME one, in the true sense of the word. In fact, I’d pay some ne’er do well child a lot of money (well ten bucks maybe with inflation) to run across your lawn. I’d bump it to twenty if he survived…

  5. pistols at dawn Says:

    KEEP THOSE DAMN KIDS OFFA MY LAWN!

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