The Death of Surveys in Normal entries

Sometime in the next 24 months I’ll have been keeping online journals for twenty years. So, here’s a Survey to suggest perhaps that time was wasted.

How old will you be in 5 years?
Dead, which kind of makes me immortal, or, at bare minimum, amortal. It’s possible I won’t be dead in five years, but it’s probable that no one will remember this survey in five hours.
How tall are you?
I lie about my height. I’m tall enough to be dangerous and broad enough to wither anyone with a look that asks me if I’m short.
What are you looking forward to most over the next six weeks?
The world not ending. I know, I’m a fucking optimist.
What was the last movie you saw?
That new Marvel movie with the avengers and guardians of the galaxy and … Infinity wars.
Are your parents together?
The one that isn’t deceased is mostly together.
What colour are your eyes?
This gas-lighting bitch from hell with my fake baby (it’s a real baby, just not mine) said my eyes were the color of the ocean. It was a stormy day on the Pacific. My eyes are blue like a clear sky in Montana or Michigan, not gray like an angry ocean. I might try to tell the tale one day. Again.
If you could go anywhere you want, where would it be?
My aunt, trying to be nice (she tries all the time, misses the mark) told me I could be anything I wanted to be. I told her I was. I am, too, where I want to be. Where I am is not for personal comfort or the joy of being somewhere beautiful, it’s fealty, so, it’s more like I’m here because of who I am and want to remain. I’m thinking Canada or Switzerland or New Zealand next.
Do you tan or burn?
Shut your mouth.
What did you fear most at night as a child?
My dreams.
How many pillows do you sleep with?
Six at bare minimum. Two to prop my knees, two to prop my left arm and two to prop my head.
How many states/provinces have you lived in?
Lived in is tricky. If we’re talking years only Michigan, Oregon and England (can’t remember the county, lived for a year in Cambridge and six months in London). If we’re talking months add Alaska. If cumulative months add California and Washington. If weeks add every state but Hawaii and every province except Northwest Territories (I might be forgetting one I haven’t been in).
Do you prefer socks, shoes, or bare feet?
Well, the socks and shoes are pointless without feet.
Favourite dessert?
Hmmmm, lets just say pecan pie. Shit. Crème bulee. Fuck. Red Velvet cake. Sonofabitch, baklava. I guess I could go on a while cussing and munching.
Favourite soup?
Beef Barley.
Do you like coffee?
Do you like breathing?
What do you drink in the morning?
Coffee, tea, on bad mornings bourbon.
Do you like to cuddle?
Is there a proposition in there somewhere?
Have you ever been to Canada?
All over, yes.
Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you?
Not that I’ve met. My daughter and grandson, um, her son, have the same birthday though, eighteen years apart.
Do you want kids?
More than the two grown-ass kids I’ve got? Hell no, I am old and grouchy.
Have you ever ridden in an ambulance?
Yes.
Do you prefer ocean or a pool?
Ocean. I’m not much of a swimmer, I can enjoy just looking out to the horizon when I’m in front of an ocean. A swimming pool is pretty boring to look at, unless, you know, barely clothed attractive people are frolicking in it, but, they’d be just as eye catching on the grass.
What do you dip a chicken nugget in?
The trash can.
Have you ever run out of money?
Heh. Fuck you.
What is your usual bedtime?
I’m trying really hard to make it 930, I turn off the electronics at 830 and prepare myself to be in bed by 930 and asleep by ten.
Do you read the newspaper?
Used to. Seems Gannet publish has taken over everything and then merged with USA today. I don’t have a parakeet, and I’m not training a puppy to be house broken (newspaper is a bad way of doing that by the way). So the paper is kind of useless to me.
What was the last note you scribbled on a piece of paper?
8-27-18.
When was the last time you attended church?
Buried a friend of mine several years back. There was a church service. It burns.