You may call me "Qomolangma Feng".

Thanks to Betty, I've had a new round of stupid internet quizzes to take. (Whew! I was going through withdrawal.)

It appears that I am the "Office Old-Timer" (as if you couldn't guess), and I weigh the equivalent of 157 pints of beer. However, I didn't even understand the questions in the "Are You Damned?" test, so I'm guessing I'm not. Here are some other results that might amuse you.


Which Extremity of the World Are You?
From the towering colossi at Rum and Monkey.
As Mount Everest (or Sagarmatha, or Qomolangma Feng) you are the highest mountain above sea level in the world, at 8848 metres or 29,028 feet. That's pretty damn big. To put that into perspective, you are twenty-seven and a half times taller than the best the entirety of the Netherlands can manage. Of course, you're not actually the biggest mountain on Earth. Mauna Kea is 31,796 feet, or the equivalent of Everest with the Scottish mountain Suilven perched happily on top. And you're not the farthest from the equator - that's Mt. Chimborazo in Ecuador. And Olympus Mons on Mars knocks all of the above into a cocked hat at around 80,000 feet. But when you're named after someone with a beard as impressive as that of Sir George Everest, who cares about the competition?


Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.
A fine, amiable and dreamy young man, skilled in horsemanship and archery, you were also from a long line of dribbling madmen. King at 12 and quickly married to your sweetheart, Bavarian Princess Isabeau, you enjoyed many happy months together before either of you could speak anything of the other's language. However, after illness you became a tad unstable. When a raving lunatic ran up to your entourage spouting an incoherent prophecy of doom, you were unsettled enough to slaughter four of your best men when a page dropped a lance. Your hair and nails fell out. At a royal masquerade, you and your courtiers dressed as wild men, ending in tragedy when four of them accidentally caught fire and burned to death. You were saved by the timely intervention of the Duchess of Berry's underskirts.

This brought on another bout of sickness, which surgeons countered by drilling holes in your skull. The following months saw you suffer an exorcism, beg your friends to kill you, go into hyperactive fits of gaiety, run through your rooms to the point of exhaustion, hide from imaginary assassins, claim your name was Georges, deny that you were King and fail to recognise your family. You smashed furniture and wet yourself at regular intervals. Passing briefly into erratic genius, you believed yourself to be made of glass and demanded iron rods in your attire to prevent you breaking.

In 1405 you stopped bathing, shaving or changing your clothes. This went on until several men were hired to blacken their faces, hide, jump out and shout "boo!", upon which you resumed basic hygiene. Despite this, your wife continued sleeping with you until 1407, when she hired a young beauty, Odette de Champdivers, to take her place. Isabeau then consoled herself, as it were, with your brother. Her lovers followed thick and fast while you became a pawn of your court, until you had her latest beau strangled and drowned.

A severe fever was fended off with oranges and pomegranates in vast quantities, but you succumbed again in 1422 and died. Your disease was most likely hereditary. Unfortunately, you had anywhere up to eleven children, who variously went on to develop capriciousness, great cruelty, insecurity, paranoia, revulsion towards food and, in one case, a phobia of bridges.


Which Famous Homosexual Are You?
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey
A Roosevelt yourself, you married your fifth cousin Franklin; despite the obvious incestuous overtones, your six kids were happy and healthy.

When Franklin got elected, you became perhaps the most controversial first lady ever - you spoke out for the rights of women; for the rights of the poor; for world peace. You were even a member of a union while your husband was in office - and when he died, you were the head of the UN Commission on Human Rights.

All of which is pretty kick ass, but to top things off you had a hot and steamy relationship with the lesbian journalist Lorena Hickok, who was so madly in love with you that she halted her career for you. Unfortunately, you couldn't give up your public life that easily - leaving her heartbroken.

Bitch.