What would you like to be said about you at your funeral?

I haven't done one of Grab's patented "Blog Ideas of the Day" in a while, so here goes.  I would like the eulogy at my own funeral to go a little something like this:

"Whoops! Sorry, wrong room."

Hahahaha.  I kid, I kid.

Lex Friedman was a good man.  Ever since he cured cancer while hosting his second episode of Saturday Night Live, I knew he was destined for greatness.  Whether it was his overwhelming handsomeness or his instrinsic charm that did it, Lex and success seemed to have more than passing end-rhyme in common.

When President and later Chief Justice Friedman and I first met, it was because he had saved my life my rescuing me from a burning pool of fire in which I was both aflame and drowning.  He carried me out of the disaster with one well-chiseled arm, and made the funniest joke I had ever heard, which itself then became world-famous and thus needn't be retold here.

But now he is gone.  After a short, scant 372 years on this year, President Chief Justice Dr. Captain Chief Sir Master His Royal Highness Lex Friedman, ESQ. has accomplished more -- and acquired more titles -- than any of us ever will or should.  His style of greatness comes but once an epoch.  And we are all better for having shared just a smidgen of oxygen with this fine man.

That'd be a good one.

Here are 12 of my resolutions for 2006:

1. Read every book in my "to-read" pile, and watch every movie in my "to-watch" pile, and do it all in an entertaining, non-stressful way.

2. Levitate.

3. Increase water's presence in my water-to-Diet Coke daily intake ratio.

4. Start and maintain a weekly podcast.

5. Expectorate.

6. Keep the family room/kitchen/dining area slightly more tidy.

7. Write even more compelling, amusing, and worth-reading blog entries.

8. Delegate.

9. Floss more.

10. Spend less.

11. Masticate.

12. Make eight billion dollars.

Would you ever...

bungee jump?  No.
surf?  No.
run a marathon? No.
eat squid? No.
eat cow brain? No.
eat a living insect? No.
walk on hot coals? Yes.
go on a reality show? Yes.
scuba dive? Yes.
... with sharks? No.

If a genie offered me three wishes, here's what I would wish for:

1. More wishes.
2. Oodles of money.
3. World peace.  No, UNIVERSE peace.  Even better.

If I could take over the world, the first ten rules I would make are:

1. Four-day work week, at five-day work week salaries. Business models be damned!

2. Arrested Development un-cancelled.

3. Hybrd (or cleaner) cars only.

4. Better distribution of food to the hungry and medicine to the sick.

5. I get to have a recurring starring roll on Arrested Development.

6. Scientists must develop ice cream that tastes exactly as good as the full-fat original, but with no calories.

7. Eliminate any toilet paper less than 3-ply.

8. All sinks, doors, and soap dispensers in public bathrooms must be foot-operated to prevent skin contact with germy surfaces.

9. I write at least three episodes per season of Arrested Development.

10. No shirt, no shoes, no problem. Except in public restrooms.

The title of my autobiography will be one of the following:

• Let's Talk About Lex
• Lex Get It On
• Lex Addict
• The DaVinci Lex
• The Lex in the Hat
• Green Eggs and Lex
• Lex Friedman has Too Much Time on His Hands
• The Poignant and Epic Saga of Lauren's Husband

Once, I was tasked to write an essay using exactly 100 words.  I simply started out typing away, without counting or keeping track of the words used, just hoping for the best.  I typed and typed and typed and typed and typed.  I wonder if I'm at word 50 yet.  Or maybe 54.  But I had no idea, having not checked yet.

Then – and this is all true – I did check.  My earlier guesses of 50 and 54 had been – yep! – exactly right.

Weird.

Then I thought some more.  "This is stupid.  I should do actual work instead," I decided.

I love haiku day.
I think haiku are funny.
Here's five syllables.

I can't believe it.
I hate the whole thing -- good Lord.
I need Jenny Craig.

I should learn to fly.
Make that, should HAVE learned to fly.
Now I will go splat.

"Vegetarians:
They do not eat any meat."
-- Captain Obvious.

This is a haiku.
Unless, of course, I'm lying.
Don't worry -- I'm not.

I am a robot.
I don't have any feelings.
That makes me so sad.

If I could go back to any point in history, I would go back to last Thursday night so I could pay my phone bill on time.

No I wouldn't. That's a Weird Al reference that I don't expect anyone to get.

But...

Hmm.

I might be tempted to go back just a couple decades and buy some Microsoft stock...

My five biggest fears are:

1. The dark.

2. Car accidents, especially caused by drunk drivers at night.

3. Terrorism.

4. Terrorists causing drunk car accidents in the dark.

5. Kittens.

Okay, so I could only come up with three. Shoot me.

Brought to you by Grab.com's official Blog Idea of the Day.

The electronic device I use most often is a battle royale between my TiVo and my laptop.  But, though my TiVo works night and day, I'm not always actively using it -- I'm passively letting it record the best television has to offer.

My laptop, then, gets considerably more use.

If I could write my own Blog Idea of the Day, I'd make it be this:

If you could write your own Blog Idea of the Day, what would it be?

Pretty meta, huh?

My favorite song is: Dr. Worm by They Might Be Giants. I assure you it's my favorite, because I will listen to it any time it comes on the car MP3 stereo, the home playlist, the work playlist, etc.  I will always listen, and I will always either sing along out loud, or at least loudly in my head if singing along would be inappropriate.

It's an amazing song. The song is sung from the perspective of a drummer-in-training who calls himself "Dr. Worm."  But it's a nickname -- or really, stage name -- that he's given himself, and no one else apparently uses it.  Though he'd like to think otherwise:

They call me Dr. Worm
Good morning, how are you
I'm Dr. Worm
I'm interested in things
I'm not a real doctor

But I am a real worm
I am an actual worm

I like to play the drums
I think I'm getting good,
But I can handle criticism
I'll show you what I know

And you can tell me if you think
I'm getting better on the drums
I'll leave the front unlocked
'Cause I can't hear the doorbell

When I get into it
I can't tell if you are
Watching me twirling the sticks

When I give the signal,
My friend Rabbi Vole
Will play the solo

Someday somebody else besides me
Will call me by my stage name
They will

Call me Dr. Worm
Good morning, how are you
I'm Dr. Worm
I'm interested in things
I'm not a real doctor

But I am real worm
I am an actual worm
I live like a worm

I like to play the drums
I think I'm getting good
But I can handle criticism
I'll show you what I know

And you can tell me if you think
I'm getting better on the drums
I'm not a real doctor
But they call me Dr. Worm...

Okay. I acknowledge you may not realize the sheer fun genius of the song when I share the lyrics with you.  But you have to hear it to appreciate it.  It is a song, after all.  Luckily for you, TMBG has posted this song as a decidedly low-fi SWF: Click here with your speakers set to rock for the Dr. Worm experience.

The last time I heard it was: One minute ago.

If I could change just one thing about myself...

Hmm.  This is a toughy.

Or is it a toughie?

With words that people say for more often than write, I tend to get hung up on the spelling.  (By the way, if a person is killed by hanging for the death penalty, you should say he was "hanged" and not "hung.")

But (and note that I don't start sentences with conjunctions lightly), that's all besides the point.  (Or is it "beside" the point?) Because the point of this Blog Idea of the Day is supposed to be, and I quote (myself), "If I could change just one thing about myself..."

I suppose one thing I could change is my difficulty to stay on point in writing; I tend to get distracted by details and minutiae. (Which is indeed the plural of "minutia," but also exists as a word on its own relating to fingerprints.)

But really, if I could change anything about myself, it would be the size of my  bank account.  I would make it, oh, 10,000 times larger.

Some folks are morning people.  Others are night owls. 

As for me, I'm... a morning person, 100%.

I am often the first Grab-team member in the office; I tend to arrive around 7:45.