Please describe where you are right now.

Cramped guest bedroom/home orfice/storage center, huddled inside a cranny, under a sloped ceiling.

In my basement.

In a lovely almost clean apartment due to my roommate's parents coming into town tomorrow.

Small, cool office - no windows, it's crowded with more than two people. No pictures on the walls, one small gray board leaning on my desk because they haven't come to put it up, and it's filled with papers. On desk basics - computer (which doesn't really work!), telephone in the middle of desk, Rolodex, stapler, tape dispenser and hole punch. Two file cabinets directly behind me with brochures for patients and medical charts scattered around.

On The Pot.

Sitting at my desk when I'm supposed to be working.

In the loving hands of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.

Hell.

Sitting at work, stapling headshots, listening to sonicnet.com. Life does not suck.

I'm at my lovely purple iMac in my bedroom. The room's walls are orange vermilion, according to Pittsburgh Paints. That's pumpkin to you and me. There is a dachshund beenie baby and a bright green stuffed toy tree frog on top of the computer. There's a fax machine to my right with a shredder behind it. A lamp with a white cat on the base over which my roommate has draped her necklaces is to my left. In front of that is a bobble-headed Keroppi statue and a squishy Bad Batz Maru doll. I'm not even going to bother describing the rest of the room because just this much has made me realize what a queer infantile mother fucker I must seem.

At school. At work. Whatever - school is work. Literally and figuratively.

The Cube.

Sitting at the computer (duh) at the desk in my new, very messy house in Echo Park.

I'm swimming in my pool typing this shit on my underwater keyboard (where do you think?).

Fourth floor of an old building in Greenwich village, looking down on an aromatic Linden tree from my window.

Computer lab at UNM.

Where is your favorite place to go on a date?

Outside in nature.

Discotheque!!!

Movies.

Bedroom.

First date? Or any date? Dates kinda suck. I guess I'd just prefer going somewhere where we can actually talk. A cozy café perhaps, with lots of nooks and crannies in which to sit.

Boat ride.

Outdoors in a lonely place.

The beach or Inn of the 7th Ray in Topanga [CA].

[Your Editor-in-Chief] Kate's front porch in Southbridge [MA].

The back of my van.

Anywhere he'll take me.

Being in a relationship for nine years, we don't date really, but the movies, dinners, shows, whatever ...

The poop chute.

Chateau Marmont bar - very sexy, intimate setting and they hang tiny plastic monkeys off the side of their divine cocktails.

Denny's 2-4-1.

Amusement park.

Dating is evil.

Anywhere that's conducive to conversation. Dinner, drinks, what have you. Movies suck, though. Take a date to a movie only if it's one of the those "blind-date-as-a-favor-to-a-friend" dates.

Do you shave or in some way modify your pubic hair? Oh, yeah, are you a boy or girl?

Pubic hair maintenance is a bitch man. But I still feel the need to do it. I have a discreet mohawk - not the landing strip, not the triangle.

As a newly pubescent male teen I once modified my pubes in the shower using either my older sister's or mother's razor. I sorta shaved a bunch of clumps off the top and around the berries. I still wonder why I did this? There must have been some deep routed psychological dilemma going on.

Female - definitely shave and clip. I'm Spanish with a little Italian - need I say more!

Yes. All or None. Boy.

I trim it with a comb and scissors. I'm a HETERO man.

Gotta reduce the width by shaving and then break out the trimmers to mow the lawn. I'm a very well manicured girl.

Does shaping it into your favorite animal cracker shape count? And I'm a boy oh boy!

No and no.

I'm a girl and I have very strong opinions on this. For myself, at least. I did the full-on shave once to try it out and to surprise a boyfriend. It certainly was clean feeling and it made sex interesting, but ick, I looked just awful! I looked like a big weird doll. I swear to god I looked doughy - fat even. I was shocked by how unflattering and unwomanly I looked. I'm a pretty curvy girl, wide hips, big tits. I like looking like a woman, a good old-fashioned pinup kind of woman. So now I've got full bush. I trim it 'cause it's fun, like cutting a Barbie doll's hair. And I keep it nicely shaved just where the tops of my legs start. You know, at the creases that make it a triangle? It looks very natural but very neat. Oh yeah, I trim shorter at any pertinent parts so the boys have easy access. I want to please them, but I care much more about pleasing myself. Uh, pleasing myself in the looks department, I mean ... anything else would be an answer to a whole different question.

Girl and I do the porn strip.

Girl. Yes.

I'm a boy who does not modify, but I do condition.

Girl - no way, razor stubble is not fun for me. I just wear those boy-cut bikinis.

Boy - I like to shave down there, then I feel really naked. Sometimes I add sparkles and glue rhinestones on too ... ya think I'm kidding?

I clip and prune (female).

No/boy.

Well yes, and I have good reason.

What is your very earliest memory?

Racing back to our country home from the swamp in the back yard - desperately having to make a #2 - screaming the whole way, trying to convince myself I was going to make it to the bowl. By the time I made it to the house my mother had the screen/front and bathroom doors open and she'd cleared a path. I raced in still screaming, unbuckled my Toughskins, pulled down my pants/briefs, and right when I began to place my bum on the seat, out rolled a child-sized, multicolored log. Afterward, both my mother and I sat on the floor, legs open facing the stinky with dejected/defeated looks on our faces.

In a garden, at my old house in Brimfield, MA. My twin sister and I were wearing cute yellow T-shirts. That's all I got.

Kindergarten - we were having a party & my teacher asked my mom to help. She was making a piñata. I remember walking by her waving while we went to lunch. She smiled waved, saying "Hi honey!"

I forgot.

Jamming out to Simon & Garfunkle's "Cecelia." I loved a funky Latin drum beat even in the crib.

Listening to "Afternoon Delight" while driving with my mom to Kentucky to visit my grandpa. Sweet story, ain't it?

Age three playing outside on a blustery winter day (with a bright red snow suit).

Being about a year old and crawling down the hall to see my family with my sister. I remember it very vividly. Too bad my description doesn't reflect that.

Drowning.

Watching my mom buy this cool (for the 70s) stackable eyeshadow thing. Either that or spilling a handful of red hots on an airport floor and crying a lot.

Going to Dud's dry cleaner's in Acton, MA. My Grandfather picked me up and set me on the counter and the attendant gave me a grape lollipop. I still get flashbacks of it when I walk into a dry cleaner's these days and that strange smell hits me. I couldn't have been more than three years old.

Snakes in the abandoned well in the backyard.

Having the insides of my sandwich routinely stolen by a neighbor's Boston terrier when I was three.

I was standing in my crib and there was a man sleeping in one of the twin beds in the room. My mom has since told me it was the husband of a visiting friend. I haven't seen him since, but I could describe him to you perfectly.

Being in a highchair in the pea-green kitchen of my mother's friend.

Scary bear shadow which turned out to be my cousin.

Falling out of my crib and shoving my teeth through my chin.

Would you cross a picket line to work as scab labor? Why?

Maybe if I were very hungry.

No, I'd be too scared to be taunted.

Yes. I need to get in the door that the picketers have closed on me.

Are you asking because of the actor's strike? Because I'm an actor. We're striking in order to keep our wages from being cut, and while I'm on my soapbox, to get a fair payment for cable commercials (it is not currently fair, especially if you factor in the money the advertising industry makes off of us - you know the advertising industry, don't you? They are the ones with all the money in the world), to have an external monitoring system established (they actually use our work without paying us and hope we won't find out, especially in Spanish language commercials), and to get advertisers to admit that the Internet might be, oh, I don't know, something they are making money off of? And maybe they might want to consider paying us a decent wage for the commercials we make specifically for the Internet? Because right now they don't even want to discuss new technology. Why would I cross a picket line to work for someone who is trying to cheat me? In this economy can you imagine an industry like advertising actually trying to cut wages?! The nonunion actors who are working and auditioning as scabs are shortsighted, naïve fools. Are they saying they are hoping when they do become union members they have the lowest possible wages? I work very hard for my poverty level wage. I love what I do. I will work hard to demand what I deserve. So no, I would never even consider crossing a picket line and working as a scab. And thank you for letting me get this off my chest.

If my family needed me too.

Sure. Bills don't pay themselves. Baby needs a new pair of shoes, know what I'm sayin'?

No. Because.

Do my kids need to eat? Do I need to eat? I'm pretty much a scab right now. Not necessarily a scab but I have little respect for myself as it is. Same as being a scab.

If I was desperate.

(Ooooh, Joanna, naughty, naughty. [Editor's note: Joanna is your Senior Editor who is also a Voiceover Artist and therefore currently on strike. Clearly this respondent knows this. We are assuming this person is an actor as well.]) Yes. I feel that it's about me and not everyone else, because when it comes down to it, does anyone give a fuck about me? No. I don't give a fuck about them. I got my own problems - I gotta live my life and I live it how I choose and do whatever I need to get where I need to go. Selfish? Sorry. When I die, it's just me and I will get the fullest out of this life on my terms. Crossing a line doesn't make me wrong or bad, it just means my motives are my own. Besides I am not in the union so why should I support something I am not a member of? One day I will and my tune will change, but for now I do whatever I can to get where I need to be.

Probably not. I'm a chickenshit.

Yes, because organized labor goes against capitalism.

I'd like to say no, but if I was really broke I might.

No!! Never!! Maybe because I'm too lazy.

No. Workers rarely protest without good reason.

No. Scary and mean.

Depended on how badly I needed to get paid.