STRANGER THAN FICTION: HOBBIES MAKE LIFE SEEM MORE INTERESTING

What looks better to your boss: downhill skiing or bungee jumping?

The form stretched out before me like a 1040-A.

They wanted to know everything about me. My nickname. My significant other. My pets. And, yes, my hobbies.

Who were these diabolical fiends attempting to tear apart my life? My own smiling co-workers, that's who. They buy you adult beverages one minute, attempt to get into your business the next.

Apparently, the Pensacola newspaper prints a yearly booklet with bios on every staff member, from the executive editor to the sorry woman who types press releases about the Chumuckla Proud-To-Be-A-Redneck Christmas Parade. (Me.) They say the idea is to let us know more about each other, thus encouraging us to work as a team.

Sure. And Milli Vanilli was a musical powerhouse.

The REAL idea, of course, is to let management know what kind of people they have working for them. Is their team of ace reporters made up of friendless twerps whose favorite pastime is applying acne medication? That's the kind of information that can make or break the next promotion.

Trouble is, my life has descended in a sad routine of working late, washing clothes, cleaning out the litter box and watching late night television. That kind of list isn't going to get you a dinner invitation to the publisher's house, although it's probably mirrored by 85 percent of the American public.

Sure, I used to have hobbies, thanks to my highly motivated mother. In the 1970s, she had me doing macrame. I think every Nieland relative owns either a plant hanger or one of those bizarre macrame owls on sticks.

Then she enrolled me in tap and ballet classes, which I had to quit when my feet reached size 11. You can't really find ballet shoes in size 11. Of course, my dance career lasted long enough for me to be laughed off the stage after performing a tap routine to "Sugar Shack" at my fifth-grade talent show.

I looked over last year's newspaper reporter biographies for inspiration. There was a woman whose significant other, Berwyn Montgomery III, was senior partner in one of Florida's most prestigious law firms. Her two French poodles, Mitzi and Muffy, took Best of Breed at Westminster last year. When she wasn't showing the poodles, this woman enjoyed slalom, whitewater rafting and collecting Chinese literature.

Hmmm, sounded more like a soap opera character than one of my fellow reporters. It occurred to me that perhaps everyone had stooped to lying to make themselves look better. How despicable! How desperate! How sad!

There was only one thing to do: create a more interesting person than anyone else had!

I studied the form again. Name? Well, I couldn't really change that, considering my name has been in the paper more than a hundred times since I've been here. Age? Twenty-one always sounds good, and they'd be impressed that I'd achieved so much in so little time.

Significant other's name and employment? Not that Mr. Half doesn't make me proud, but his job isn't any better than mine. I went with "Dr. Victor Newman IV, neurosurgeon."

Pets? Two stray cats picked up by county animal control didn't sound impressive. I decided to write that my registered Persians, Snowflake and Earl Grey, warmed my beachfront condo.

Then I came to the worst question of them all. Hobbies? Macrame and tap dancing just wasn't going to cut it. My hobby had to be something interesting, daring and intelligent.

Ends up I'm a two-time Iditarod champion.

Try to mention something about it if you ever meet my boss.

~Heidi Nieland is a former staff writer for the Southeast Missourian who resides in Pensacola, Fla.