If you ask moviegoers what is their least favorite part of a film, you would get a variety of answers. But you wouldn't get "the credits." Not because it's among their favorite parts of the film, mind you. It's just because they've forgotten about them. Heck they don't even read them. Less than a minute into the final credits, people are already walking away, leaving behind popcorn, soda and jujubes.

And so with that in mind, the subject of this month's kooky Live Action Anime Experiment is credits. I submitted a plethora of personal information to my editor and he condensed them into what would become my "credits." It was a long scroll with information - my parents, my old teachers, my doctor, even my own soundtrack. I hoped that people would at least read my credits. They better. I mean all these people worked hard at creating the work of art that is me...the art...the work that is me? Me? What is me? Who am I? I decided to neglect the harder, existential questions for the time being and concentrate on the simpler task at hand.

I spent the first couple days just carrying around my trusty credits and not using them at all. I had hit an obstacle even before I begun - when am I supposed to show the credits? I debated internally over whether I should scroll the credits whenever I left a room, or whenever someone else left a room. What if there's nobody in the room? Perhaps I should show my credits whenever someone left me? I was becoming increasingly confused. Did I end when someone left me? Or did I end when I left somebody? What is the end anyway? Where do I end and someone else begins? The task was quickly becoming oddly existential again. So I did what I do to all difficult philosophical and existential big life questions, ignored them. After much mental stress I settled on the simplest solution. Occam would be proud. I would show my credits whenever I left a location- work, home, bank, massage parlor, nudie bar.

Before leaving the office, I stood in the large workroom scrolling through my credits. Nobody paid attention to me. Hmm...this was not good. I needed to get their attention somehow. I needed something more obvious than a cough and subtler than a "Hey you! Look at my credits!" I started singing the "laah's" and "dah's" which make up the spontaneous, entirely non-melodic musical score of me. People started turning and looking my direction. Good sign. I looked at the expressions on their faces. Bad sign. I was attacked with a barrage of, "What is that?" and "What are you doing?" How rude. Do they normally shout at the screen when they're watching a movie? Ah. They probably just get up and leave. Well, at least with me they were still in their seats.

"I can tell they're credits, but what are they for?" quipped my puzzled co-worker Tiffany.

"The work of art that is me...I mean the art that is me...or...uh...the... Me. They're credits for me."

"Are you a movie or a TV show? What are you?" Tiffany countered.

Damn. It was that question again.

"These are ending credits right? So does that mean you're ending, like leaving the company?"

Damn. That other question.