How you doin’?
My grandmother had a plaque, clipping, or a plate on her wall with a poem on it. It was basically a list of what’s wrong with the person. After enumerating the maladies, it ended with:
It’s better to say “I’m fine” with a grin,
Than to let them know the shape we’re in.
I’m doing just fine, thanks!
I’ve been emotionally unstable and on the verge of tears all week.
And I drink too much.
What’s crackin’ Chairman Pow? How you doin’?
My standard response is that I’m breathing and awake and that you probably don’t want to know anything else.
Yeah, yeah, but how you doin’?
Glad to hear it!
That sucks, dude. You need a hug?
I’d say this is my first drunk post, but I’ve only had two beers.
Probably shouldn’t say that with CG around though.
No need to be defensive, you’re among friends, not jagoff coworkers who want to hear all about how you pretend to be a vampire every other Friday so they have something to roll your eyes over at lunch.
I’m living in the urbs, and I’m gruntled.
Thanks for asking!
Fine. A $76 fine. Just kidding. I’m good.
An old friend of mine answered, “Fair, partly cloudy.”
I’m fine. 
I’ve got a purring Maine Coon kitten in my lap. Forget fine. I’m exstatic. Or excatic if you purrfur. 
Aren’t they fluffy cats? Wouldn’t they increase the static? Careful touching any metal.
I’ll use my standard response:
I’ve been worse.
The best part is, lately it’s always been true