Carol Elaine, Natalie, Vince, Eric and Jim have all taken one of those ubiquitous online quizzes on “How Will You Die?”.

I’m not gonna take the quiz. First, because I’m a rugged individualist at heart, and second, because the possible results are insipid. You’ll die in your sleep? Or while having sex? Obviously this quiz creator needs to browse the mystery, horror and SF/F section at his/her local bookstore.

So, without further ado, here are some of *my* favorite answers to the question, “How will you die?”

• I won’t! I’ll simply have my consciousness uploaded into a succession of artificially created bodies and live forever.

• I won’t! I’ll be bitten by my hot, centuries old vampire lover, become a vamp myself and live forever.
• I’ll be electrocuted and die during a freak lightning strike to my solar farm while interfaced to my home artificial intelligence.
• I’ll be sent to execution by a liberal death panel at 55 after my children realize I’m spending their inheritance too quickly.
• I’ll drown during a hurricane while trying to become the first woman to swim across the Atlantic.
• I’ll die of vacuum exposure after being struck by a micro-meteorite while serving on a Mars geological expedition.
• Zombies will attack me and consume my brains after I run out of propane for my flame-thrower. Fortunately, as an undead person myself, I won’t need brains.
• I’ll be eaten by a polar bear in arctic Alaska after my plane crash lands, I wander across the tundra and collapse in dehydration and hypothermia.
• I’ll be assassinated with poisoned coffee by a jealous professional rival who will be promoted, given a raise and a window office in my absence.
• I’ll die in a freak recycling accident, my plight unnoticed by local western Washington eco-enthusiasts.
• I’ll die having sex while skydiving; our cords will tangle, our chutes will not open, and the tabloids will have a field day. Unless we impact over water, then we’ll just disappear.

Eric already has come up with some fabulous, creative ways to die in his sleep. What about you, what are some creative ways you could die?

I’m going to swipe a blog topic and share my oddball search phrases with the world. Thanks, Google Analytics!

Can airport X-rays see a joint?
A knee joint, yes. Other types of joints, uh, I’ll defer to the experts on that one. Really, you can’t travel without your stash?

Free puppies that people can’t have
If people can’t have them, then they’re not available, and probably don’t technically qualify as free. I think. My head hurts.

Seattle nude housekeeping
Really? Is this a trend? Because, really, there are things that don’t mix well with vacuum hoses and caustic cleansers.

Work for puppies
So does this mean that the puppies would be your employer? “Hiya boss, want a bone?” Or does it mean that you get paid in puppies? “Nice job this week, Smitty, we’re increasing your pay from a beagle to a labrador.”

Xray porn
Since X-rays don’t really image soft tissue all that well, I can only assume that the searcher really likes bones a lot. A WHOLE lot.

My dad has gone crazy
Not to be cold and unsupportive, but how the heck is GOOGLE going to help you with this?

Miss Smug 2008
Wow, there’s an award? I never knew. What are the criteria – and is there a talent competition? I’ll make sure I’m entered for 2009.

Strip club UCF
Trollops, we’ve got a new gig!

I am a fan of the hilarious Sweet Potato Queens and aspire to their philosophy of living life like royalty every day.

One interesting piece of advice that author Jill Conner Brown offers is that every woman should have five men in her life at all times. They can sometimes be partially combined into fewer men with more skills, but she believes you’ll never find them all in the same man. Here’s her list:

A man who will take you dancing.

Apparently the Sweet Potato Queens like to go dancing. A lot. And from their stories, it seems that male dancing partners are optional, they’ll dance alone, with each other, or with the guys if the music is good. I admire their zest for life.

Personally, I don’t need this guy. I’m not at all a dancer or club-hopper. I wouldn’t be averse to an occasional slow dance or even a basic ballroom class, but in general I don’t need a dancing buddy.

I could use a fishing buddy, a travel partner, a road trip friend and a movie companion, though my boys fill most of those roles admirably now, while theyr’e still at home.

A man to talk with.

Not only does she recommend a man to talk with, but this man must be unflinchingly supportive and always agreeable. Listening skills are essential; talking skills not so much.

I’m not sure why this particular one needs to be a man, because women are far better companions in verbal analysis. I do have a couple of men friends who are great at this too, but it’s usually not a native skill. Also, if you need someone with great listening skills who will unfailingly agree with you, a dog is lower maintenance than a man. (Murphy even tilts his head at me when I talk to him, as if to say “Tell me more!”)

A man who can fix things.

She likes men who can fix plumbing, cars, carpentry, etc., and feels that having one or more of these in her life is pretty essential.

I’m personally a fan of being able to fix things myself. The ability to do so, learned from my oh-so-capable mother, is a point of pride for me. My youngest son also inherited a fabulous fix-it sense and regularly assembles Ikea furniture blindfolded, without instructions, and with one hand tied behind his back.

Also, fix-it capabilities can be hired from the yellow pages or Craigslist. I’d actually prefer a man who helped with housework and yardwork. (I had one of those, Bryan was a total gem.)

A man who will take care of you.

Apparently a man who will pay for things, who has sugar daddy tendencies and likes to spoil a woman, is high on the author’s list.

Bluntly, the hell with that! I can take care of myself just fine, enjoy providing my own security and prefer my independence, whether I’m married or not. The myth of the knight in shining armor is highly overrated.

I’m not averse to a dinner out, random flowers or shiny gifts, but I can provide those for myself. My awesome UCF friends keep me pretty happy on the flowers and random cheerful stuff front.

A man to sleep with.

Self explanatory.

I’d argue that this can be found on Craigslist or in a specialty electronics store as well.

Seriously, though, what women need is someone who makes them feel adored, respected, beautiful & special, whether in a platonic relationship or a passionate one. Friends and a healthy dose of self respect can provide most of that – and, well, the rest is private.

So, of the “Five Men” that are recommended, I don’t need any of ‘em. And yet, I like men a lot! I adored my husband, I think my sons are made of awesome, I have several wonderful male friends and I enjoy working in a male-dominated industry.

I’ve actually been thinking about this subject a bit lately – what I miss about being married, about having a partner and best friend in the home, and rereading the Sweet Potato Queens gave me a great sense of perspective.

What men – or women – do you need in your life? Or more importantly, what do you want? Please keep it to PG-13 or better.

I propose a new edition of the reality show Survivor populated by tribes of some of the nation’s most annoying and extreme political figures. This would be a special version with unique rules, and I’m thinking Guantanamo Bay is a great location for the event.

Here is my proposed starting lineup:

The rules, so far?

1. Contestants begin the competition by paddling to Cuba from the Florida Keys on their own makeshift rafts. First team on the ground gets food.
2. Challenges could include surviving waterboarding, the longest filibuster, the longest silence, shooting & dressing prey (not hunting partners), hunger strike, media deprivation, listening skills, navigating a gauntlet of hostile protestors, skin diving for silver dollars, etc.
3. Halfway through the show, the tribes must combine into a purple tribe without killing each other.
4. Here’s the twist: anyone voted off the island has to disappear from the public media scene and the national stage for, oh, at least four years.
5. The winner could earn his or her own private island, to rule in perpetuity. It might be an empty island, but it would be his/her very own. Mail plane optional.

Can anyone think of additional contestants? Rules? Challenges? I think this has real potential, Hollywood!

Note: I am not a fan of reality tv, and politically I’m independent/libertarian, annoyed by both extremes. This is satire, and anyone who takes it too seriously will have to join the winner on his/her island.

Today is national limerick day. Both Nathan and Vince have made contributions – neither are entirely safe for work.

After ten minutes of noodling about, I can safely say that this is not my thing. I can approximate the meter but am completely lacking the humor part of the form.

There once was a game geek named Zach
Whose screen turned surprisingly black
But then he restarted
His crash was outsmarted
And now he continues to hack

A singer and actor named Ben
Auditioned for All the Kings’ Men
He dressed to the nines
and remembered his lines
He’s opening Friday at ten

There once were two dogs who stood guard
Both Panda and Murphy barked hard
Then they slept in
Missed all their bacon
And now they dig holes in the yard