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Appetizer: What is a symbol that inspires you?
There’s a flag you can get – I looked for a photo online but unfortunately couldn’t find one for you – which is a combination of the Canadian and American flags. I’ve seen them flying both up North and down here, usually close to the border, and they always make me smile. The disconnect, animosity and ignorance from both sides towards the other tears me up a little bit as I feel a close affinity with both nations. But I can always take a little solace in Mark Steyn.

Soup: Name something that happened in your life you’d consider a miracle.
Does the $40 scratch ticket on New Year’s Eve 1993 count? Didn’t think so. I’ve had a great life thus far – but nothing really stands out as an Earth-shattering miracle. That’s a very strong word. Even the Goddamn Pope died. A family member just had a potentially very scary MRI scan come back negative – so I’m going to go with that.

Salad: How do you handle criticism?
With salad tongs. But seriously, folks – not all that well. If you ever run into me on the street, naked and covered with chocolate syrup and beestings – that’s me handling criticism. But you should really get a shower and a beekeeper’s uniform before leaving the house next time. What in the fuck is wrong with you?

Main Course: Complete this sentence: I feel alone when…
I am in a room by myself. But it’s only a matter of time until the voices in my head show up. I’ve saved thousands on therapy because I’ve embraced these voices, and besides – they always bring along some Doritos.

Dessert: Name one TV show you wouldn’t be caught dead watching.
I’m not one to talk, as I watch a lot of reality television. The easy answer would be something like Antiques Roadshow. But I friggin’ love Antiques Roadshow – so I’m in a bit of a pickle again. Let’s split the difference and say anything on Lifetime starring Meredith Baxter Birney. Unless they’re doing a biopic on one of the appraisers from Antiques Roadshow.

Appetizer: Describe your week in one word.
Paradoxical.

Soup: Tell about a funny practical joke that you’ve played on someone.
At Vermont Academy, the boys dorm was located right beside the main classroom building. Fuller Hall also had an auditorium and – most importantly – a bell tower. The tower could be accessed by climbing a spiral staircase which was located off a locked prop room in the auditorium. We brow-beat one of the band geeks who had a key to this room until they ‘lent’ it to my friend Mark. After morning-meeting, Mark unlocked the prop room and took a rope up into the tower. He tied the rope to the bell pull, dropped it out of the steeple, and we all began a long school day worrying that our little prank-in-progress would be discovered. But nobody noticed the dangling rope, and after lights-out we dropped a similar rope out of our third floor dorm window. Then Mark snuck outside (an expellable offence) while the rest of us played lookout on various floors. Mark darted across the lawn between the two buildings and eventually tied the two ends of rope together – providing us with full bell-ringing access from the comfort of our own room. We waited until about 3 a.m. and started ringing the bejeezus out of the damn thing – waking the entire campus. Eventually we noticed the maniacal headmaster sprinting towards the scene of the crime. We simply dropped the rope out of the window and went back to our respective rooms. As a variety of teachers started bursting through doors in an attempt to catch the culprits, 5 naughty schoolboys giggled furiously into their pillows. Jesus that last sentence sounds filthy.

Salad: – Name someone you had a crush on when you were a kid.
A Mississauga girl named Michelle. The crush teetered precariously on ‘morbid obsession’.

Main Course: If you were a member of royalty, what would your title be?
Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl. Or maybe Little Lord Fauntelroy.

Dessert: What colors are the clothes you are wearing today?
Dark blue jeans, cobalt blue jumper, pink thong. What are you wearing, dear readers? And will it be wrong to print out your descriptions so I can masturbate to them later?

Atlantic City was interesting to say the least. I made it back safely, and I’ll post some photos over the weekend. In the meantime, it seems the Quizzlet lady has recovered from her grave illness as I found the following questions in my mailbox this morning. Also, tonight is Jim’s birthday. Anyone who’d like to join the revelry, please give me a call.

Appetizer: What is the worst movie you’ve ever seen?
I’m notorious for liking some pretty bad movies, so I think anyone who knows me will take this answer with a big ol’ hunk of kosher salt. I do, afterall, own such classics as Tango & Cash, Evil Dead and Salem’s Lot. But to be honest, I didn’t have to contemplate this question for long. The worst movie I’ve ever seen is Fahrenheit 911. Not for reasons of poor cinematic craftmanship. Michael Moore is a talented director. The reason I hated this film is the way in which it was disguised – and worse yet, perceived – as an objective documentary. Triumph of the Will had less of an agenda. Please read this and then this, and I promise I’ll never mention this fetid pile of dung again.

Soup: Name something that reminds you of your childhood.
Photographs, a fear of wooden spoons and a plethora of mental scars. Speaking of scars, I’ve recently been asked several times, by different people, about the one on my eyebrow. While playing Starsky and Hutch at age 8 in Manotick, I slipped and fell whilst in pursuit of a dangerous criminal (Jennifer Snider). My head came flying down on a rusty trailer hitch of all things, and although I was fine I started bleeding like I’d been chainsawed. Jennifer’s older sister, Janet, was babysitting us at the time and the two of us decided to freak her out. I rang my own doorbell and was standing there absolutely soaked in blood when Janet opened the door and promptly screamed. It was the classic make-your-babysitter-think-you’ve-been-grotesquely-dismembered-whilst-under-her-care trick.

Salad: If you had to live in a large city, which one would you pick?
I would, and did, pick Boston. I could never live in the Urban Death Maze, and I don’t plan on heading back to Canada until I get my citizenship – although Vancouver is looking mighty attractive lately. I can only do what I do in a select number of cities, so my choices are fairly limited. As much as I’d love to move to Kentucky, where I could get an eight-story house for one month’s Boston rent, the only thing I could optimize there would be hate crimes.

Main Course: What’s a “big word” you like to use to impress people?
I used to run around with a guy named Andy Kirk when I’d go to visit my parents in Hong Kong. Andy worked as a bodyguard for some rich local, and was known absolutely everywhere to absolutely everyone. He showed my sister and I some of the greatest times of our young lives, acting as our personal tour guide over the Christmas holidays of 1994 & 1995. Doormen and club owners in WanChai, Central and Repulse Bay would look at us and say simply “Hello Mr Andy!” before letting our group cut the line and dodge the cover wherever we happened to be. It was an amazing way to see that mad island, and I’ll be forever grateful.

I still keep in touch with Andy, who currently lives in Manchester England, and a few years back he toured with Oasis as Noel Gallagher’s bodyguard. He IM’d me recently to tell me to get the Familiar to Millions tour DVD as he appears on it several times. Needless to say I ran out and got it, and sure enough – there’s Andy in a few scenes looking all big and bloody mean. Anyway, Oasis plays a great song called Acquiesce during the concert. I had never heard of it, as it was an obscure B-side to one of their later singles. Eventually I got around to looking up the meaning of the word – as prior to hearing the tune I had no idea it even existed. The simple definition is to “consent or comply passively or without protest.” So watch for me attempting to slip that word into conversations in the near future. And then beat me unmercifully when I do.

Dessert: Describe your hairstyle.
Tragic. I recently bit the bullet and had it cut after attempting for a few months to grow it out. When I was told last week that my hair resembled Bill Murray’s in Scrooged, I knew it was time to seek out that striped pole.