How ya doin’?
Pretty good, thanks.
Got a light?
I don’t smoke cigarettes. But yes.
Can I see your license and registration, please?
So how about this weather, eh?
Yeah, it’s really something.
Where’d you get that hat?
From the stack in the corner of my living room.
Anything to drink?
Got the time?
How long have you been completely insane?
When’s the last time you cried?
The night I slumped to the ground and nearly drowned in my tears.
Are you on Facebook?
Are you on Twitter?
Are you on MySpace?
Only because it makes me feel useful when busty redheads in bikinis ask to be my friend.
How do you like your steak?
You’d be paranoid too if everyone was out to get you.
What’s a Photoshop Jam?
An exercise to keep the juices flowing. I love photography, but I also find it little boring. As a celebration of my taste for variation and heightened reality, I’ll occasionally bring a pic into Photoshop and tool with it using an endless array of filters, adjustments, layers, blending modes, and channel operations. I’ll always set a self-imposed time limit on the jam, which is usually no more than about three or four minutes.
It was Cap’n Crunch, but I recently rediscovered Apple Jacks.
Blood red on black. And that orange color my cheeks get when I stick a flashlight in my mouth.
If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Asian fusion. And Mexican. And American barbecue.
Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.
French Roast ground Turkish. And baby powder.
A snare drum; my dogs lapping up water; complete silence.
Baseball and chess.
Has anybody ever told you you look like Johnny Depp?
No, but his mom keeps accidentally leaving these really long messages on my answering machine.
How long have you been growing that hair?
The whole time.
Do you use sarcasm a lot?
Only when when I say something that makes people look stupid.
What’s with the glasses?
Double shot of farsightedness with a splash of astigmatism.
Do you wear contacts?
I can’t find any that fit.
Ginger or Mary Ann?
Wonder Woman, actually. You know what I’m talking about.
Roper or Furley?
I can’t not say Furley.
Hugs or kisses?
Where’s the furthest you’ve been from home?
Do you have a special talent?
I can read minds. Shame on you. But your secret’s good with me.