My dear friend Ray kindly informed me that I’ve been shirking my responsibilities around here (i.e. entertaining him), and so he begged threatened asked me nicely if I would please complete the following questionnaire.
So, without further ado…
When were you happiest?
The first night that I slept in my bed in an actual bedroom (with a door!) in my new condo. That was about two months ago.
What is your greatest fear?
Waking up and finding myself living in a subdivision somewhere in the north end of Brampton, married to my high school boyfriend, pregnant with my fifth child. Oh, the HORROR!
What is your earliest memory?
Sitting on the kitchen counter, bawling because I had just caught my finger in my Nana’s spinning wheel. Or was that an episode of Little House on the Prairie? No, I think that was me.
Which living person do you most admire?
Stephen Lewis. When others have given up hope, he continues to fight. Make a donation.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
My incessant need to over-analyze every situation.
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
What was your most embarrassing moment?
There are so many, how could I pick only one?
What is your most treasured possession?
My home. Everything else could disappear.
What do you most dislike about your appearance?
If you could bring something extinct back to life, what would you choose?
Dead Like Me. Sheer brilliance.
What is your favourite smell?
Why can’t they make a cologne that smells like baking cookies?
Cat or dog?
What is your guiltiest pleasure?
The question implies that there are pleasures that make me feel guilty. So…nothing.
What do you owe your parents?
An apology for that time a friend of a friend vomited on the living room carpet. Other than that, I don’t feel I can be held responsible for the decade when the aliens invaded my body (aka the teenage girly angst years).
To whom would you most like to say sorry, and why?
See question above. Also to the whiny prat at LaGuardia last week who almost cried when I accidentally took his cab. Drama, drama, drama.
Who would you invite to your dream dinner party?
First, someone who can cook, because I’m not doing it. Possibly Susur Lee (who totally redeemed himself in my books during Top Chef Masters) or Art Smith (because if he’s good enough for Oprah, he’s good enough for me, dammit). Guests will include…you know, I was going to think up a list of famous people, but I think I’d rather invite all of my fabulous, interesting friends. I am truly lucky to be surrounded by people who are fascinating and intelligent.
However, my date will be Don Draper.
What is the worst job you’ve done?
I could say scooping ice cream or sorting specimens at a medical lab, but it was actually practicing law. At least at the lab, the shit was contained in little jars.
If you could edit your past, what would you change?
I would seriously reconsider the Ziggy Stardust haircut of 2001.
When did you last cry, and why?
About a month ago, because I thought I might have cancer.
What is the closest you’ve come to death?
At a funeral home, next to a dead body, I hope.
What keeps you awake at night?
Sex, duh. Or indigestion. Sometimes both.
What song would you like played at your funeral?
“You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by the Stones, of course.
How would you like to be remembered?
Well, this questionnaire certainly took a sharp turn towards morbidity.
As a highlight in everyone’s life.
Patron of the arts.
Too much? I think not.