Here are more questions from readers, along with my answers.

The first three are from srah dot net . You should visit her blog and play with the Pepto Bismol Dance Machine. You can make a black guy, a homely lady and a cowboy grab their butts because they have the scoots.

Oh, these would have been more timely if I answered them closer to Halloween.

1. If you could trade places with one fictional character, who would it be?

Hm. That's a good question. Not Jack Bauer, because the dude needs a nap. They should have an episode of 24 where he does take a nap and the entire hour is Jack's dream. It can be the craziest 24 ever. Also, if we traded places, he would be super bored with my life. Although my lady would be happy with the trade, I think Jack Bauer would find my job a little less intense. He'd keep yelling at people, "Who are you working for?!?!" And they'd be like, "Um, you."

Anyway, that wasn't the question. It'd probably be a George Clooney character. One of the cool ones. I'll go with Jack Foley from Out of Sight.

2. What is your favorite kind of Halloween candy?

Like the last question, I am going to answer it with the opposite of what you asked. My least favorite is candy corn. So nasty. That's the only real Halloween candy I can think of. Know what I mean? Like, you only see it around Halloween. Most of the other candy is all year round candy, right? I dunno. I like Twix.

3. What's the best Halloween costume you've ever worn?

Mrs. Roper. I was in college and it was totally last minute. I had some connections in the theater department (I was gay) and we went into the costume shop and tried to think of things. Finally, this funny gal named Karen says, "Mrs. Roper." It was brilliant. We found a muumuu, a reddish wig, she let me borrow a really long necklace, I threw on some sandals and that was it. I was Mrs. Roper.

Not everyone knew who I was at first glance. Some people were able to guess after a bit, but once everyone did find out, they were quite impressed. I actually made out with this chick that I had a crush on for the longest time, so that was exciting. But then the next day I realized I was wearing a wig and a muumuu, so that was kind of awkward. She turned out to be a big druggie, so that might have explained things.

My first set of questions come from a gal named Sheila who blogs over here. She inspired me to write a really long story.

1. What is your favorite drunken story.

Hm. That is a difficult question, because I have lots. But none that jump to the top of the list. One of the best, which I mentioned once a long time ago, was my birthday in 2003. It fell on a Saturday, but I had already celebrated on Thursday and Friday, so I figured I would do nothing on Saturday. My sister Christina called and I told her my plan of nothing and I found out later that she felt bad for me and thought I was a loser.

Anyway, my friend and former co-worker Greg who lived down the street called around noon or so and said, "Hey. Today is your birthday, right?" I said that it was and he said, "Let's go to Teddy's and watch the Penn State game."

OK, so I went. We also met up with Kat, who got me Jesus magnets for my birthday. She had to work though, and left early. But we made her do a couple of shots before she left. Drunk work! Woo!

We eventually left that bar and went to the Turkey's Nest. We drank some more and were visited by our friend Matt, who dropped by for a few beers and a shot or two. You can see where this day is headed. It was only about 3:00 at this point. Matt had to leave because he was having family over for dinner or something. Drunk family gathering! Woo!

I don't recall what exactly happened next, but we eventually decided to go into Manhattan and thought it would be a good idea to go visit Kat at work. We worked in an office in midtown. Greg used to work there as well. So we go in and there are only a couple of people there and we are really drunk and I remember throwing candy or something at one point. There was candy hanging from the ceiling for some reason. I decided it needed to be thrown.

One guy that was in our office, was a fella named Alberto. Also known as little Alberto. He wasn't working at the time, but was there to update his fantasy football team, I think. We convinced him to go have a drink with us, and he chose a bar that I think was called The Electric Banana, which to my surprise was not a gay bar.

So we are there, have a beer and a shot. Alberto leaves for some reason. So it's just me and Greg once again. We notice across the bar that there is a jukebox. On top of this jukebox is an inflatable Heineken football. We must have this.

So we sit there and plan how we are going to do this. There are only about ten other people in this bar. They are, for the most part, old. The bar is shaped like a U. OK, so pretend you are looking at the U from above. The bottom of the U is facing the door. We are sitting on the right part of the U facing the left part. Next to the left part is the jukebox/football. In the middle of the U is the bartender.

So we very drunkenly make our plan. I walk on over to the jukebox, acting as though I am going to play a few songs. There is an older lady sitting right next to the jukebox smoking a cigarette. She looks at me with my five dollar bill in my hand (I was totally playing the role of guy intending to put money in jukebox, because if I didn't have the money out, they totally would have known something was amiss), and she says, "Are you going to play some songs for us?" She was really old and sweet, so I felt kind of bad that she was about to witness a crime. Sure, it's probably the lamest crime in the history of New York, but old people are easily frightened.

So I say to her, "Yeah, I think so. You like Tom Petty? They have Full Moon Fev-." Just then, I hear "Toole! I'm open!" The best part though, was that Greg clapped twice. It went like this:

Toole! (clap clap) I'm open!

So I grab this huge football and took a three step drop like I was really a quarterback. I look around at the defense, which consisted of an old guy looking at Greg like he was nuts, the jukebox lady looking at me like I was nuts, and the old lady bartender, saying, "No. No no. No!" The first two times she said No, they were like, "Oh, no boys. We don't do that here." The last No was as she watched the football leave my hand. And it was a very stern No.

I throw a perfect spiral to Greg, despite it being my first time ever throwing a gigantic inflatable Heineken football. Greg catches it and runs out the door. I run and try to catch up in case I have to block downfield.

We run for a few blocks, then stop, Greg gives me the football and says "Happy Birthday." I then realize I don't need a gigantic inflatable Heineken football. We are walking by a family of three getting into a cab, and there is a boy who is about 8 years old that I thought needed the football more than I did. I give it to him and his face lights up. His parents' faces were not nearly as illuminated.

On the subway home, we were talking to these girls who were out for a bachelorette party. The chick was way too young to be getting married, so Greg and I, in all our drunken brilliance decided to tell her how she is making a mistake. The train is pulling into 23rd St. station, which is one stop before we have to transfer. Greg says something snappy to the girl, stands up like he has made the greatest point in the history of points, and walks emphatically through the closing subway doors. I am sitting there now with the bachelorette party. One girl says, "Didn't your friend just get off?" I say, "Yes. Yes he did. This is not our stop." I am pretty sure that no matter how many candy penises that girl had to eat that night, Greg and I were the highlight.

Anyway, I think Greg called me when he got back to Brooklyn, and we might have actually met out for another beer. But I don't remember. That was a fun birthday.

Damn! I forgot there were two more questions.

2. When you were 6, what did you want to be when you grew up?

A dog. Seriously. My mom saved it. We did some thing for school and that was one of the questions and my answer was "A dog."

3. Your happiest moment to-date.

You did not phrase that in the form of a question. Lucky for you, I am not Alex Trebek.

Probably when I was about eleven and I got tickets to go see wrestling at Madison Square Garden. I think that was the best Christmas ever. I got to see Macho Man vs. Hulk Hogan. I was rooting for the Macho Man. Me and my neighbor brought signs. I forget what they said and I think we threw them out in the parking lot because they sucked.

This is not to say I haven't had happy moments since, but it's just that things are so much better as a kid, you know? Because if you have a happy moment now, you're happy for a little while, and then you realize lots of things suck. "Oh yeah, fucking terrorists" or something. When you are young, the fears aren't real. Like Milhouse's fear of piranhas.

I am not ignoring the three questions. Many of you have asked some good questions. I will answer them. But first, peace out Rummy!

Here is one of my most proud creations.

I am uninspired lately, as far as the blogging goes. So I ask you, the reader, to inspire the shit out of me. Ask me three questions. I have done this before. And if you have asked me questions before, and I did not answer them, don't be discouraged. It's just that I thought your questions were shitty and decided to not answer them. Redeem yourself! It is also possible your questions were very good and difficult to answer. So there's that too. Chances are, though, they were shitty. So email me and ask some questions.

A few weeks ago I was driving by a school bus filled with what I think were high school kids. In the back of the bus, there were four kids holding up signs, each with one word written on them, that read, "HONK IF YOUR HORNY."

So I sped up and honked, because I was really horny. But then I realized their grammatical error, so I wanted to yell, "Honk if my horny what?!" But I don't think they would have gotten the joke.

I'd like to thank the literally thousands of people* who sent me emails about Bob Barker's retirement. It was indeed a sad day for me. So now, not only are my Cash Cab chances severely diminished, my TPIR chances are also going by the wayside.

*Not to be taken literally.

I tried to post a photo of Bob Barker, but Blogger isn't letting me. So here is a post I wrote once about The Price Is Right and Ohio. Circle of life or some shit.