Name:

Address:

City, State, Zip:


The Application:
I am:  

A Wired employee.
Not a Wired employee, but I interviewed once.
Not a Wired employee, but I saw Carl's picture in Wired.

I want to go out with Carl, because:  

He obviously needs someone like me, to love.
Po Bronson is married.
He seems like a better deal than the guy who's asleep on the couch right now.

My idea of communication with a significant other is:  

An endless barrage of one-liners, to which I'm the punch line.
Email discussing Carl's most intimate moments, involving common household items.
"I wrote this just for you, and the rest of my adoring public. Tell me I'm brilliant."

Carl is missing. Where do you look for him?  

In South Park, talking up his latest "project" to anyone who will listen.
On talk.com, trying to convince people that he's "famous."
My best friend's inbox.

I am attracted to the following qualities in a man:  

Brooding, yet self-important.
Evasive, yet playful.
Haunted and bitter.
All of the above.

If I couldn't date Carl, I'd most likely:  

Hate Carl, for being Carl.
Hate myself, for being me.
Stalk him.
Find someone who looks like him.

The best place to have sex is:  

Anyplace dark, if he expects me to get undressed.
The brown leather couch in Louis's office.
Anywhere Carl wants to.

My favorite aspect of "Carlness" is:  

His beautiful eyes.
His leering smile and possibly malicious intent.
That he knows everything.

I am most likely to fall for the line:  

"You don't want me, you just want to possess me."
"It's about two people being in the same place, at the same time."
"I don't need you, but I desire you."

Your favorite word is:  

More.
Yes.
Carl.
None of the above.

If, for some reason, things between me and Carl don't work out, I expect Carl to:  

Lead a monklike existence, contemplating just how wrong he was to let me go.
"Lay low" for awhile, and then resume a normal platonic relationship, including news of all his new lady friends.
Rub it in my face. After all, I lost Carl Steadman.
Not complain when I put up a thinly veiled website all about our "relationship."

If Suck were the Beatles, Carl would be:  

John.
Paul.
Julian.
They'd all be Ringo.
Suck is so '95.

I am looking for:  

"True" love.
True "love."
"True love."

If I were the object of Carl's affections, I'd be:  

An anorexic teddy bear.
A tin of Skoal.
A full tank of gas.

My last relationship was a failure because:  

I guess he really couldn't read my mind.
I needed to spend some time on "me."
I forgot we were dating. Damn, there are some really great shows on TV.
He wasn't Carl Steadman.

Bonus question (essay):

What do you really want?