Sweaty palms. Forced eye contact. Twitchy movements. The job interview.

I don't know how many times I've been interviewed in my life--probably dozens. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you should treat it all as if it's a game, one that's yours for the winning.

It's pointless to project your insecurities onto the interviewer. Yes, this person most often is some annoying harpy a year or two out of college who foolishly believes she's functioning on the deductive level of an FBI serial killer profiler.

But the interview process has nothing to do with the actual job. Most people know this and paint themselves as that wonderful, one-in-a-million square peg for the square hole in the company. What I'm more interested in is something rarely found in these interviews: honesty. More than honesty--outrage. That's the strongest feeling I tend to have after any job interview.

I've fashioned a few stock Human Resources questions below, some relevant, others completely inane. Who knows, that magic interview may occur one day, where I know I've completely tanked it, or that I'd rather eat a handful of maggots than take the job, and I may as well cut loose, and, like Elvis, have a little fun onstage.

Here's how I might do it:

Where do you see yourself five years from now?
a. Six feet under with you in my arms.
b. Annihilating waves of corporate-sanctioned cyborgs, clones and computer-generated holograms with my laser gun as I forage through the rubble of post-nuclear America.
c. Answering the same depressing and stupid question from an inexperienced underling in another claustrophobic little coffin of an office.
d. Ruling the universe in a big blue and white spaceship with flaming tailpipes.
e. Hopefully bitching about archaic office politics by your water cooler and counting the days until I can quit or retire. You know--where everyone else is now.

What are your strengths?
a. My ten-inch cock--your mother knows all about it.
b. My ability to subtly evade stupid questions from hack interviewers.
c. My super-human strength, provided no one in the immediate vicinity has kryptonite.
d. My penchant for playing the drum solo from "Wipe Out" on bald men's heads.
e. (stated in a deep baritone with hands cupped over mouth) I AM IRON MAN!

What are your weaknesses?
a. Teenage pussy. Can't get enough. Hommana, hommana, hommana.
b. I can bench 250, but squat thrusts, forget it.
c. Mint chocolate chip ice cream. Robby Benson movies. A warm cup of cocoa.
d. Whenever someone says "time sheet," I take all my clothes off, lie down in a fetal position and masturbate.
e. (sung in a breathy falsetto) I have never been mellow!

What would you hope to achieve in our firm?
a. World peace, and get nasty people to at least try to be nicer to everyone.
b. Make enough so I could buy a bitching Camaro and cruise local high schools at the end of every school day--please refer to previous question's letter "a".
c. Methodically turn your entire workforce into vampires so I won't feel so alone.
d. Hopefully rise to a position of authority where I can turn your hair gray and make you weep alone behind the closed door of this office every night.
e. Yo, niggah, yo, you know, just keepin' it real, word, it's all good, know what I'm sayin'? Don't want to have to pop a cap in no mad toy's ass. Yo, peace.

Describe your last position.
a. First rule of Fight Club: never talk about Fight Club.
b. She had one leg wrapped around my neck and was hanging from a tree limb by the other. You haven't figured it out? Monkey trainer!
c. I had dominated all of Eastern Europe, France and northern Africa, was working on Russia and England, but it all came crashing down, so I shot my body double in the head, did the same to Eva, got my ass out of the bunker, took some personal time to "find the real me" in the jungles of Uruguay, and, well, here I am!
d. I was about to take his knight, but his bishop came out of nowhere and knocked me off the board. Guess I got a little too uppity for a pawn, but isn't that a good sign?
e. I had a nice thing going on at the plantation, but my coworker, Chicken George, took off for the Underground Railroad, and the master whipped me with a cat o' nine tails in his place. I'm looking for something a little more flexible.

What did you enjoy most about your last position?
a. Drinking the blood of those I had vanquished and gnawing on their skulls. Raping their women. Turning their children and old ones into slaves. Excuse me, would you have some tissues, I'm getting all choked up here.
b. Having scantily-clad teenage girls by the thousands chant my name and offer to suck my cock for drafting a sound dot.com buy-out proposal.
c. It was both invigorating and highly rewarding to nurture a band of motivated young people in the desert and convince them I was God, and that it was our duty to start a race war by murdering rich white people and leaving evidence at the crime scene to suggest a black paramilitary group was responsible.
d. Scaring the villagers whenever I broke my chain and got loose. Although, frankly, the repercussions of these situations inevitably presented me with a somewhat unfulfilling experience. Fire, bad!
e. I had one of those chairs . . . fit for a king. A patent-leather throne. Fit my ass perfectly. Didn't squeak a lot. And had a level jack on the side that provided endless hours of amusement. If I cut cheese in it, it wouldn't retain the smell. Can I be blunt? I miss that chair more than I miss most of my former coworkers. Damn, that chair.

Why did you leave your last position?
a. It's hard to ejaculate standing on your head.
b. The bearded lady wanted more of a commitment, and I was constantly getting rashes on my face and inner thighs.
c. I don't want this to be perceived as sour grapes, but I felt under-appreciated. Every time we destroyed a Klingon warship, someone like Scotty or Luhuru would take full credit and not acknowledge my contributions.
d. I do declare, the Yankees, led by that evil General Sherman, had already burned down the gazebo and slaves' quarters, and all I could grab on the way out was this little old thing for our appointment today.
e. My last position, I basically wandered the hills of the holy land doing non-profit public relations for My Father. I quickly built a small firm of fishermen, shepherds, tax collectors and a prostitute, before the Romans got upset, and one of my disgruntled underlings turned me in for a small finder's fee. They put me on trial for bogus charges and ended up crucifying me, but I rose again in fulfillment of the scriptures, and, well, here I am. I apologize in advance for having something negative to say about a former coworker. I know that's a no-no!

What would be your dream job?
a. Cindy Crawford's bicycle seat. Ha! You though I was going to say "Hollywood gynecologist"!
b. If you could cross a rock-and-roll star with a great white shark, and give me wings, I think I could find at least a modicum of joy in my professional life.
c. Well, excuse me for being so candid, but yours, of course! It must be heavenly to wake up and be you every day!
d. Counting sheep? Sawing wood? What kind of question is this?
e. One that allowed me to stay home all day doing whatever the hell I pleased and have the company send me beautiful, vivacious prostitutes like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman with take-out meals from four-star restaurants. Or maybe something that would allow me to kill my enemies and not be prosecuted. Bottom line--a job that allows to me wear a newspaper hat. Forget all the other stuff--that would be it.

What job would you never want to do?
a. You want to me to say something obvious, like adult movie theater janitor or New York City police officer. So I'm going to say Queen of England. How does that grab you? I'm the Queen of England! Off with Mel Gibson's head! Cancel my high tea with the Duke! I see a little silhouetta of a man!
b. Honestly? The one you're interviewing me for. But what the fuck, I'm already here, let's get it over with so I can trawl listlessly through the CD store on the corner then kill some more time at Starbucks before my girlfriend gets off work, and I can tell her I blew it again. Would you have $20 I could borrow?
c. Whatever occupation inspired Johnny Paycheck to write the working-man's anthem, "Take This Job and Shove It." Do you think that was his real name? Maybe in light of that song, it should have been "Johnny Foodstamp"?
d. Something wacky and sick. Shit eater. Dead dog blower. You know, something Dante would have had you do in hell had he written The Inferno today. Although, I must admit, the person who got to go around that frozen lake kicking the heads of the damned protruding from the ice probably had a level of job satisfaction we could all aspire to.
e. I pray for world peace and hope that, if chosen, I could spend the next year bettering mankind and myself in the process. What? I know the answer doesn't pertain to your question, but since you're asking me beauty pageant style questions, I thought I'd go for broke. You know, I look pretty good in a bathing suit.

Imagine yourself as an animal. What animal would you be and why?
a. Any winged creature that would allow me to shit on cars and people. Why? Why the hell not?
b. A lion. Because my teeth are sharp and I'm king of the jungle! Grrrr! Grrrr! Rrrrow!
c. In terms of this firm, I'd say a dog. So I'd have no qualms about eating shit and have supervisors gaze into my sad and knowing eyes, then attribute humane feelings of warmth and tenderness to me that have little or nothing to do with my mute animal mind.
d. I'm like the Phoenix rising from the fucking ashes! Like Meat Loaf! Like Cher! Like any has-been rock star on VH-1's Behind the Scenes series. And this bird you can not chay-ee-ay-ee-ay-ee-aynge! Lord knows, I can't change!
e. Isn't man an animal? And isn't the way people treat each other in offices much like yours as barbaric as anything in the animal kingdom? I choose man, as, yes, a badge of shame, and recognize this office as no different than an open plain where a lion takes down a feeble baby zebra because he is the weakest of the herd.

Is there anything you'd like to ask us about the firm?
a. Wait a minute. Who's "us"? Is this like a demon trying to fake a priest into believing he's dealing with more than one evil spirit? We are legion! Indeed.
b. What happened after Jimmy Page left? You guys really rocked on "Radioactive."
c. If I were to smash my chair through this window on the 32nd floor then throw you out at the same time as, say, this stapler, which would hit the ground first?
d. Mommy, what is the firm's role in the sky being blue?
e. Wasn't that the worst Tom Cruise movie you ever saw? Even worse than All the Right Moves?