You know that feeling when you get on a really scary carnival ride for the first time? You stand back, observe the ride, try to remember the last time you heard of someone dying on it, and make sure your insurance premiums are up to date? Then you climb aboard, knowing you still have a few minutes to bolt, and then the scary little carnie guy comes and slams the bar down and you know you’re in for good? And you’re about to die? And it’s too late to do anything about it? And you realize that your life and everything you have worked for is in the hands of a leathery brown man in the late stages of scurvy? Yeah. That one. Well that’s how I felt a couple of days ago.

Let me explain. You’ve seen the posts where someone sends the person five questions and you have to answer them. They seem to be in fashion these days, for no apparent reason, kinda like when, in grade school, it was suddenly marble season, or yo-yo season, or whatever. So I’ve been darting about lately, reading as much as possible (which hasn’t been that much, as you have probably noticed). But I happened upon the blog of the inimitable, irrepressible Tiff.

And she had recently done a fab job of answering her five questions. And so, in a totally inexplicable lapse of judgment (much like the aforementioned carnival ride), I uttered the words, Interview Me. And much like the aforementioned carnival experience, after I did it, I thought, “Holy crap — what have I done?”

So I’ve been nervously awaiting my questions. Because y’all, it’s Tiff. She’s a wild woman! I mean, she just got her second tattoo! What would be my fate? All the angst and anxiety of a late night truth or dare game came suddenly to mind. Oh my god it’s my turn and Kelli is going to ask me something so embarrassing or else she’s going to dare me to call Josh and profess my love for him shit shit shit.

I hoped she’d forget. Or get bogged down in Tiffland and have to bail out. Something. But alas, I checked my inbox, and there they were. And I knew there was no going back. The rusty wheels and chains of the carnival ride lurched forward, and there I was. About to throw up.

And guess what? It wasn’t bad at all. And for that, Tiff, I thank you. Because I’d like to stop holding my breath.

So, without further ado, and with the longest preface in the history of blog prefaces, here they are — her questions, my answers.

1) You’re told you’re going to have to move to Boston for your job. Do you go, or find another job?

Quite simply, I’d head to the unemployment office.

2) Mountains or ocean on vacation?

Ocean, dude. I don’t like the cold, and the less clothing, the better. (To PACK, that is…get your heads outta the gutter.)

3) If you had a choice, would you play Monopoly or cribbage?

Monopoly. If I remember correctly, cribbage has a bunch of holes and pegs, right? I tried to read the instructions on that game once. Ahem. Monopoly it is.

4) I’m having a party, and you’ve said you’d bring an appetizer. What are you going to fix?

I’m bringing my famous hot onion souffle dip. And you will fall in love with me as a result. It’s guaranteed. And don’t start going on about “ewww, onions.” The most devout onion-haters love the stuff.

5) There’s a spider in your bathroom, right over the shower. What do you do about this?

I stare him down, willing him not to move. And I make sure I don’t bend over to pick up the soap.

And for those of you that have never found a carnival ride you didn’t like, all you need to do is go to my comments section and utter the two words “interview me.” And let me know where you want your five questions. And hang on!

Oh, and for the record? I’m willing to bet there’s not a carnival ride out there that Tiff won’t try. Am I right?