Mr. Whiskey Daisy
	Green or blue, depending on the moment
	sort of a slightly reddish deep blonde/light brown (this is a matter of some debate)
	Some type of green crew-neck sweater over a button-down shirt with faded Levi's 550 jeans and either my brown Docs, off-white low-top Chucks, or black Jack Purcells. Exciting, huh?
	Corsendonk Abbey Brown Ale
	bacon-wrapped water chestnuts (hmm, haven't had one of those in awhile...)
	That depends on what type of drinking is going on. For a swanky dinner party (not that I really have these), the ideal soundtrack would involve some combination of Thelonious Monk, John Coltrane, Charles Mingus, and Miles Davis. For more of a hell-raising kinda vibe, I'd go with the Who's "Live at Leeds" (the expanded 1995 CD edition), the Stooges, classic Stones, the first Clash album, the Descendents' "Milo Goes to College", the Replacements' first two records ... the list could go on and on. For an old-school-tear-in-my-beer vibe, definitely some Merle Haggard, Hank Williams (Sr.), Louvin Brothers, George Jones or some Joe Pernice-affiliated product.
	I found this picture the other day of my dad giving a two-year-old me a drink of his can of Schlitz in my great aunts' living room (actually, the same house in which I now reside) circa 1973. Since I can actually remember the photo being taken, I've tried to block out the taste of the Schlitz. The photo is pretty funny.
	Mr. Salinger's "The Catcher in the Rye" or MOJO magazine
	Taxi Driver
	a black-olive tree
	Whiskey Daisy's cats, my friend Craig's now-deceased dog Spike (I'm admittedly not the world's biggest animal-lover)
	I worked three summers (1989, 1990 and 1991) as a laborer for the Harrison Township Public Works Department. It's the best job that I've ever held--I could work hard in the sun with a one of my friends for approximately 4-5 hours per day and read in the shade for approximately 3 hours, while finishing work by 3 p.m. and not having to think about the next day's work at all until I arrived there.
	hiskey Daisy, Rickie Lee Jones, the Raincoats, Exene Cervenka [note to Jen--please make sure this spelling is not altered. Editor's note: is it spelled incorrectly?], Meg White, Maureen Tucker, both of my grandmothers.
	To the extent that I believe in absolute equality (and I stress EQUALITY) between all genders, races, creeds/non-creeds, and sexual orientations, most definitely. However, I must admit that I don't like labels and like "movements" even less, so I'm hesitant to call myself a "feminist".
	It means that my girlfriend (whom I love and adore) is a much happier person and that I get to occasionally hang out with other genuinely interesting women as a result. Not a bad deal, really.
	Something resembling the Squirrel Cage (a.k.a The Squirrel Hill Cafe) in Pittsburgh (with the Gooski's jukebox) would do nicely--fairly small, but with ample wooden booths and tables set up for prime conversation potential. There would be no "dance floor", per se, as anything resembling a DJ would be completely forbidden at my bar. Every so often, I'd book a cool local garage band on a weeknight to drum up a bit of business and give the band a little bit of a push. An extensive beer list that excluded all Coors and Anheuser-Busch products would be a must, as well as top-shelf vodka and single-malt Scotch for the budding yuppies and cheap (non-wings) bar food to soak up some of the excess alcohol in my patrons' systems (upon reflection, I think cheese fries should be our specialty). I would hire my 6'1", 320-lb, shaven-headed pal John Lerner as a doorman to weed out all fratboys and the gals who love them and would set a three-drink limit for all patrons who were not willing to pay a reasonable cover charge to finance the taxis that I would provide to drive them home once visibly intoxicated. I'd also require that each person who exceeds the three-drink limit sign a written document waiving my (or my staff's) responsibility for his/her actions once they exceed the limit. (Note: This bar would be out of business within a month.)
Do you enjoy being a Screwdriver?	I've only had one occasion to rise to full Screwdriver status, but I enjoyed it immensely. Why? Because it was another chance to make my girlfriend happy (which is my stated goal in life at this point) while talking to interesting folks (the LUPEC women and those who love them) and doing something that is considerably different than my normal record-geek routine. Besides, it's better than being a hammer or a nail... too much pain involved... *slaps knee uproariously*

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