Category Archives: Personality

I’d make a doggy-style joke, but I’m MUCH too classy for that. Much.

Howdy, Sunday. How’s your weekend, good? I am currently having brunch with C. and C. at a fancy brunchy place full of brunchiness. Listen, there are very few things I like more than brunch. Because breakfast meats! And eggs! And did I mention the breakfast meats?And look how pretty!

Well, obviously, this is the place at NIGHT, and we’re going to be there during the DAY, but it’s still this pretty, with the river and all. Oooh!

Then we’re off to the fancy play at the fancy, fancy Vassar in the front row with the fancy famous people.

Ooh! Aah! Powerhouse!

Today is going to be a good day. I probably won’t even have time to miss you all, internet. I know, right? That’s INSANE. Don’t worry, I’ll be home before it gets dark.

We have some things to discuss! Some random interesting things!

First, look who’s a winner! Me! I am a winner!

Cat from Cat’s Litter Box has given me the Let Them Eat Cake award. This is nice, because it’s an award she made all by herself, and there are no RULES involved with the award. Like, “do all the linking to all the people” (which, as you all know, is the reason I cannot accept all the awards, because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings) and “answer all these way personal questions about yourself” (but, let’s face it, I don’t mind those, I’m kind of an open book, or I just lie, or refuse to answer the question, whatever strikes me as a good idea at the time, I mean, how would you even know?) AND no other things I have to do like sing a song or make a video or email a bunch of people in a chain-letter-like situation or ANYTHING.

Look what I won!

I know, you’re all EW EW EW but it’s actually a CAKE! A delicious cake! That only LOOKS like icky cat litter! That makes me smile. I got this award because, according to Cat, “If I actually wrote on my blog, rather than post pictures of bacon and Star Wars things, it would sound just like Lucy’s football” and “The blogs that I actually read give me a lot of pleasure, information or insight.” WELL! That’s a huge compliment, right? THANK YOU CAT! Cat is awesome, and creative and talented, and I am so pleased she likes my blog because it’s like someone FANCY noticing you and talking to you at a party and politely choosing to ignore the stains on your blouse and the fact that your lipstick is all crooked. HUZZAH!

Next, look, you can all learn all about your personality, and also maybe have a seizure in the process!

Look into the design. Look DEEEEEEEP into the design. Now go buy me some pudding. Good. GOOD.

One of my commenters, Kris, sent me a link to this a while ago and I put it in my file of “whaaa?” things and then today I was like, we should discuss this now please thanks. So here’s a link to this test. But listen! This personality test can cause SEIZURES and also DEATH. Here, from the homepage:

“This diagnostic is contra-indicated for individuals at risk of seizure or otherwise troubled by incongruous noises or strobing lights. This diagnostic tool should be administered (and all results intermediated) by an experienced clinician, so that suggestible individuals or those with a precarious sense of self can avoid feelings of depersonalization, loss of affect, or ego death.”

Oh, wait, not DEATH. EGO death. My mistake.

Anyway, I’ve already taken this, but it was a while ago and I forgot to write down what happened so I have to do it again so I can tell you my results. I promise it won’t cause ego death. My ego remains alive and well after taking the test. It DOES strobe a lot, though, so migraine and seizure trigger, I guess. Also, there are noises, and you need them in order to take the test properly, so if you’re at work, wait til you get home. If I get you fired, I’ll feel terrible and I can’t afford to send you any money. Oh, also? It moves REALLY FAST. It’s like a mindfuck video game of PSYCHOLOGY. Be prepared, jellybeans.

Ready? Here we go. Oh, the things I do for love.

OK, all the questions say weird things like “Your hands are covered in blood, WHY” and then you choose a block of color that is “morally correct” in order to win. Also, the background sounds are like what would happen if you were losing your mind in a haunted house.

Like in this basement. The noises in this basement. Gah.

Sample questions also include: “In the dark, a warm liquid flows over your thighs. How can you forget?” and “If you think these words, they will know.” Sometimes things pop up on the screen like “You are not paying attention” or “You are not following instructions.” This is very much like what would happen if you were in the mental institution. I’m quite sure of it.

My “diagnosis”:

You are overly inhibited and unsure of yourself and this likely has lead to a sense of the world closing in on you. You often feel that emotional relationships bring with them responsibilities or limitations that will be damaging to your sense of self. Compromise is seen as a threat to your identity.

A disappointment has lead you to a state of indecision and a pervasive uncertainty about the possibility of the future improving. Stress is the natural result, and you feel rising levels of uncertainty and anxiety, causing you to avoid situations where you will be forced to make a decision. Often this will express itself in a series of meaningless distractions, whether in the form of entertainment, intoxicants or romance.

Hmm. I don’t think I got this result the first time. I remember it being more insightful before. I think it’s mad at me. These results make me seem a LOT crazier than I am. Also, since when is “romance” a meaningless distraction? What would be a meaningFUL distraction, then?

Also, from the results page:

“There is a chance this test could cause a mild case of information poisoning or identity sickness. If symptoms of disassociation or existential dread continue for more than a day, please contact a therapist.”

You can also click and become one of their representatives but it’s all very creepy and you had to enter an email address and I love you all, but I’m not signing up for spam for you just to find out what the hell’s going on here. It’s probably an ad for a video game or something.

Anyway, tell me what your results are, if you take this and don’t get a seizure or “identity sickness,” whatever that is.

Next: in icky true news of Florida, now you know where to go if you want to be orally serviced by your dog.

This dog is shocked. And a little embarrassed for you, frankly.

According to this very, very informational article that I found for you, a man was arrested for both child porn and for bestiality, but will only be charged with the bestiality, because Florida had a heretofore un-thought-of loophole.

I also found this. If you try to molest an alligator, it will eat your whole hand and/or private area. So, please. By all means. Molest ALL the alligators.

Apparently, according to the LETTER OF THE LAW in Florida (yes, yes, it’s the ickiest that there has to be a law, SPELLED OUT, with TECHNICAL TERMS, for different TYPES of bestiality) as long as you don’t PENETRATE your pooch, or your pooch doesn’t penetrate YOU, you’re golden. But AMY! What does that leave all the lonely people? you’re asking.

Apparently, that means your dog (or cat, or ferret, or hamster, I suppose) can lick you. That is TOTALLY FINE. And our good buddy Eric Antunes from above only was doing THAT with “his girlfriend’s three legged dog” (EUPHEMISM? Nah. There’s no need for a euphemism in a story like this one, it’s not hiding NOTHIN’) he’s only in trouble for the child porn. No way around the child porn, Eric the Energetic. You kind of screwed the pooch there. HA! Oh, wait, no, no you didn’t, that’s why you’re not in trouble.

So, if you want to slip in (THAT one’s a euphemism) under the wire before they change that law, run on down to Florida and coat your junk with peanut butter. You’re welcome! (No, actually, you’re really not. You know how I feel about animal abuse, right? This is animal abuse, you assholes. STOP IT.)

This dog HEARTILY disapproves. HEARTILY. As do I.

And, finally, in VERY EXCITING NEWS, it was pointed out to me recently on Twitter that both sj and Ken really should have official titles over here on the old bloggidy blog. I mean, we have:

…and we have:

So, INTRODUCING…drumrollllll drumrollllll drumrolllll….


Please proffer them your MOST GIGANTIC CONGRATULATIONS! It is nice that I am slowly establishing a whole battalion of experts. I have science, fly-nance (that once covers a lot of ground, so that’s good), music, and euphemism. It’s really only a matter of time before I take over the world with all this knowledge at my fingertips, seriously.

Happy Sunday! Can’t wait to tell you all about the play!

Way to fail me in my time of need, interwebs.

I was talking to a friend the other day about guys. You know, as you do. When you’re an adult. Have the same conversations you had when you were fourteen and bored and passing notes in study hall.

We were talking about how our list of what we want in a guy changed, as we got older.

When I was young, it was all about EXCITING. I wanted a Heathcliff. I wanted the brooding and the romance and the drama.

Ooh, Ralph. Love, love, love, with the broody.

Now I kind of just want someone to watch Game of Thrones with who’d help me bring in the groceries. And also liked Dumbcat, and of course sex. And who knows how to use a semicolon, and doesn’t live in his mom’s basement. And who makes me laugh. And who I make laugh. Because I’m funny as hell, no joke.

Someone who agrees that Joffrey needs all the bitchslappery would be JUST PEACHY WITH ME.

The friend was all, “I think you need to know more of what you’re looking for than that,” and I said, “Really? I won’t just know when I meet him?” and she said she didn’t think so. I don’t know if I 100% agree with that but you can’t really say that to people because you look like a douchenozzle.

So I went to the interwebs because I thought, the interwebs will be a nice way to find out what I’m looking for, because apparently that’s something that normal people know and I don’t. I know, total surprise, right? Also, have I mentioned I have a very, very stupid heart? I have a very intelligent brain and a very stupid heart. It wants what’s bad for it. It wants all the Cheetos, this heart of mine, and none of the salad. It’s not a smart heart. Not at all.

First I found this quiz, and it seemed promising (because it said it was FOR GIRLS and I am totally A GIRL) until there were 47 billion popups. Don’t click on this quiz unless you like 47 million popups.

But it told me this is what I wanted in a guy:

You like The Populars! You have a love for those who are oh-so-smooth around you! You also love them because they know how to talk and make your heart melt! They’re perfect for you, because they also love to be cool, like you! You’re a sweet gal, so stepping up and talking to them shouldn’t be hard for you!

Um. No. No, I don’t think I do. I think that’s the opposite of what I like. Bad job, popuppy quiz.

Then I found this one, and there were a lot of typos. Listen, I’m starting to despair for the state of the interwebs. HOW ARE PEOPLE SUPPOSED TO FIND OUT WHAT THEY WANT IN A GUY IF THERE ARE ALL THE POPUPS AND TYPOS.

But it was totally smarter, yo.

YOU WANT TO DATE A GEEK! You love geeks! Not to say that you ARE one, but… I’m just saying. Anyways this is the perfect guy for you. You like school, plaid, and your family. So go ahead and don’t care what anyone says: DATE A GEEK!

“Anyways” makes me want to commit kitten-murder.

I DO like school and my family. I’m kind of meh on plaid, though.

Ooh, now THIS ONE is for GROWNUP LADIES because it is from a site with GROWNUP things on it. So this is more promising. Listen, we’re going to crack this code sooner than later, I’m promising you this right now. This one’s going to tell us what type of man I attract. I’m going to predict right now it’s homeless people who want to borrow money.

One of these questions asked where I like to go for a date. My options for answers? A dance hall (that’s still a thing? Are we also time-traveling?), a strip club (um…is it s first date, or…let’s just say no, for now), the theater for a Broadway show, or “I don’t care.” You think I answered the theater, but you’d be wrong. I said I don’t care. Because the last thing I want to do is drag some date to the theater when he doesn’t want to be there. That’d be awkward, and ruin it for everyone.

This quiz sucks and won’t give me my results unless I sign up for some spammy email shit. NO WAY CHARLIE. I guess we’ll never know what kind of men I attract. However, while taking this quiz, I stumbled upon an article called “14 Embarrassing Sex Questions” which you KNOW I had to read, I mean, you would have, too, and found out the following information:

  • Farting during sex is NORMAL and NOT FUNNY (come on, that wouldn’t make you laugh? That would make ME laugh. And if the guy I was schtupping DIDN’T laugh, that’s a sign I’m with the WRONG GUY.)
  • Having gay sex dreams doesn’t mean you ARE gay (um…someone asked this? I dreamed my finger fell off once, does that make me leprous?)
  • Cybersex does not count as cheating (really? I think I know a LOT of people who’d beg to differ on that point. I am one of them.)
  • Playboy airbrushes their centerfolds’ coochal areas (hee, what a job for someone)

These questions were less “embarrassing” than they were “stupid.” I don’t care for this website. BACK TO SOLVING MY LOVE LIFE DILEMMAS.

Now, this one is promising. Because it’s on a site called All The Tests. I like All The Things. so this will probably be very helpful.



You like the academics. Overachievers in school, these guys are intelligent and may edge on geeky. But, when they aren’t busy studying they will make time to adore you! Often enough, these guys are too shy to show they care, so try and be friendly towards them and something might happen.

OK, so we’re two for two on the geek set. I like that. I approve. This imaginary guy will be watching Game of Thrones with me in no time. Although I don’t know if I love that “something might happen” with this guy. That seems kind of up-in-the-air. I don’t have time to wait for him to get his shit together, dammit, I’m pretty old right now.

OK, enough with the teeny bopper bullshit. NOW WE ARE GOING TO USE SCIENCE.

This website is called PSYCH CENTRAL. I’m sure this will be very helpful. And this quiz is going to tell me what my style of romantic attachment is. HELPFUL ALREADY.

OK, this quiz says I am “fearful and shy” about relationships because I don’t want to get hurt.


Also, it wants me to put a badge on my site that says “My relationship style is Fearful and Shy” which I think would be the perfect milkshake to bring all the boys to my yard.

Now I”m just getting bored, let’s see if I have a sexual addiction.

Sigh. ZERO POINTS. UNLIKELY. I apparently am not a deviant.

OK, I have learned NOTHING today. This is just the worst. I am no closer to finding my Game of Thrones grocery-carrier sex-fella than I was when I STARTED this situation.

Oh, I totally met my future husband at work the other day but then I found out he was married with three kids so I was told I was not allowed to lust after him. He was a Doctor without BORDERS, you guys! So adorable! So when I got over him fourteen minutes later I met my NEW OTHER HUSBAND who was irreverent and wacky and looked like he knew how to repair cars. I like a guy who looks like he knows how to repair cars. I mean, I have a car, that’d be a handy skill. Also he used a long word that I’ve already forgotten so I got lustful. AND his dad apparently is a rich person so once we get married and his dad dies we’ll totally be jetting off on my European trip. But I was told that new husband hardly ever comes to my office so if I ever see him again probably it would just be a fluke and I’ve already forgotten what he looks like and also his first name so I wouldn’t even know him if I saw him. So then my coworker who was sad that all my future husbands were falling through told me she would be on the lookout for a musician for me because she thought that would be a good match for me and I said “AGREED, except make sure it’s not an asshat musician, I dated one of those once and it was nightmarish” and so that’s exciting except she’s really flaky and sometimes calls me Marnie even though I’ve known her for like six years so I think this might fall through.


Whatever, imaginary guy would probably just talk during Game of Thrones anyway. Then I’d have to break up with him. NO TALKING DURING TYRION UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE PUNCHED IN THE NECK YO.

*sigh* Yes, yes, Tyrion. Everything you say. Got it.

(Psst, happy birthday to my baby brother. Yes, the one who thinks you all have either one hand or are rapists. He will not be seeing this. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY BROTHER. You do not care for the internet and think it is shadytown. I…think otherwise. Genetics are a funny thing, sometimes. ENJOY YOUR DAY!)

Consider this the slip that brought me to my knees

We were discussing Lent the other day on Twitter. I was cheering on some friends who are participating in Lent, while explaining that, although I find it beyond admirable whenever anyone goes through Lent, I no longer participate in the practice, because I am a stubborn ass when it comes to Catholicism. This brought up some curiosity as to why this is.

No, not why I’m a stubborn ass. If you could answer that question, you’d win the prize. I can’t even answer that question. Genetics? Nature? Nurture? My most influential role model growing up was (and remains) the most stubborn man I’ve ever come across in the history of ever; I’m sure that plays a part. My brain just being wired that way? I don’t know. I’m stubborn, and I can, and often am, a complete ass about it. There’s not a lot of rhyme or reason to it. I can’t often explain my actions to myself. Sometimes I even say, “Amy! Stop being such a stubborn ass!” TO MYSELF. It doesn’t often help. I just keep assing along.

No, why I’m a stubborn ass in relation to Catholicism was the question. I’ve touched on it now and again here, a few run-ins I had with various clergy members or things that have happened to me over the years in the church. There was the time I was kicked out of churchschool for standing up to the bully asshole priest who screamed at the Planned Parenthood employee; there was the time I was so mad at the games we had to play in churchschool I refused to participate, and therefore I became an object lesson for the entire congregation.

Neither of these explain why I refuse to go to church anymore. I still attended church after these occurred. I attended church right up until a little after grad school, actually. Then I’d had enough, so I stopped.

Now, before I start this, please bear in mind: I am not attacking the Catholic church, or any church, or any religion (well, except for maybe cults. I’m scared of cults. Or religions that are yelly about things. Or religions that get in my face. Other than that: you go, religion, you go.) This is MY PERSONAL TAKE ON SHIT. If you want to be an asshat and all “YOU HATE GOD” or whatever, you know what, go do that over there, or something, I don’t have time or energy to deal with your shenanigans.

It all came down to this: I could no longer attend an institution that was making me pray, on a weekly basis, for social issues to be resolved in a manner that was opposite to what I believed in.

Sure, there were other things. There was the time there a senile priest chased me out of the confessional screaming “GET ON YOUR KNEES AND BEG FOR GOD’S FORGIVENESS YOU HEATHEN” (wish I was kidding, you guys), there was the evil priest, for whom a special circle in Dante’s inferno is reserved, one where fingernails are pulled out OVER AND OVER AND OVER, who called my mom up at work and called her the Whore of Babylon (yeah, I know, right?) because she and my father refused to donate substantial amounts of money so he could get a new rectory; there was the time that same priest installed a rearview mirror in the confessional so he could see who was making confession even though it was supposed to be anonymous, I assume either for blackmail or gossip purposes. But those were individual incidents, and not indicative of the church as a whole. So I kept going.

Then there was the hypocrisy. I like rules. I approve of rules. I think, as a society, we could benefit from following the damn rules a little more often. But no one was following the effing rules of church, yet people were still GOING. People would be eating Egg McMuffins in their cars in the parking lot, then going in and receiving the Eucharist. THAT’S NOT THE RULE. You’re supposed to fast before you receive the sacrament. THOSE ARE THE RULES. People would only attend a mass here or there, usually the ones where you got goodies, like palms or ashes, and then be all, “Yep, I’m a good Catholic.” You attend ALL the masses and ALL the holy days. THOSE ARE THE RULES. People that I KNEW were horrendous human beings in real life would be at mass on Sundays. I’m pretty sure you were supposed to be at least ATTEMPTING to follow God’s teachings ALL WEEK LONG, not just piously showing up in church on Sunday. RULES. RULES. RULES.

But that was on them, not on me. So I kept going. Good Catholic girl, parents raised me to attend church, I kept going. Not saying I didn’t miss a mass here or there, especially in college when I was too hungover to get out of bed on Sunday mornings, but I made an effort. I tried to do my best. I still believed in what the church stood for, the greater good of it all. I kept going.

Years passed. It weighed on me, more and more. But I kept going.

Then this weird new practice started, and that was when I drew the line.

At the end of every mass, right before we could leave, we all had to stand there while either the priest or a deacon or one of the readers stood up and read off a list of things the church, as a whole, was praying for that week. And we all had to put our arms and hands up in a Sieg Heil salute throughout. No, I’m not kidding. Did I have the only church that thought this was a good idea? There have to be some Catholics reading this. Did your church make you pray for things while Heiling? Was this a thing? Is this still a thing?

So the first time I looked around, trying to catch someone’s eye to share the delicious insanity of “hey, we’re totally doing the Sieg Heil thing, this is cuckoo-bananas, right?” but everyone had dead, dead eyes. Like a cult. Like a dead cult. IT WAS ALARMING. It was grainy WWII news-reel footage of Hitler youth alarming. I did not like it one little bit.

So I just stood there and refused to put my arm up. I wasn’t Heiling ANYONE. I felt like I’d fallen into a bodysnatchers movie.

Then the person reading started reading what we were praying for. Poor people. Cool, I could get behind that. At the end of each statement we were supposed to respond something. At this point, many years later, I have no idea what that is. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, it was “Let us pray.” I don’t know what it was. I barely remember what I wore yesterday. (I’m lying. I wore my Dr. Horrible shirt and it was AWESOME.)

So, poor people. Cool, cool, cool. I mean, I wasn’t Heiling, but I could say “Let us pray” to that. Fine. Then something for more clergy members, or whatever. Some things that I was completely down with and found to be not-at-all-objectionable.

Then we got (and I’m working from memory and imagination, here, so bear with):

“Let us pray for the homosexuals; that they see the error of their ways, and find God. Let them come back to God and realize that the only true love and marriage is that which is found between a man and a woman.”


I mean, I wasn’t an idiot. I knew the church was totally anti-homosexuality. But they didn’t usually SAY it. Not in MASS.

I wasn’t “let us pray”-ing for that shit, no no, not me. Not with over half of the people I loved more than anyone BEING those damn dirty godless homosexuals. So I just stood there, refusing to Heil, refusing to let-us-pray.And kind of getting a head of steam, honestly. And an Amy head of steam is never a good thing. They usually boil over. Someone gets scalded.

Then some other filler shit, then we got:

“Let us pray for the aborted babies, who have been killed, through no fault of their own, by their mothers. Let them enter heaven, whether baptized or not. Let the government see the error of its ways and outlaw this barbaric practice.”


OK, first you attack my best FRIENDS, then you expect me to Sieg Heil away my right to frigging CHOOSE? Nope. Not going to happen. HEAD OF STEAAAAAM. Also, separation of CHURCH and STATE. You aren’t supposed to talk about the GOVERNMENT in here. Yes, yes, that’s not what that MEANS, FINE. Either way. STOP BRINGING YOUR POLITICS TO MY ALTAR.

And everyone else around me, dead, dead eyes, were just standing there, arms outstretched, mindlessly, thoughtlessly “let us pray”-ing. Probably not even listening to what was being said. Not even thinking about what they were throwing their words behind.

That was when I realized: there was a very, very good possibility I think too much to attend mass anymore. Because I overthink EVERYTHING. The rules. What’s being said. What the things being said MEAN. Why we’re doing certain things as opposed to others. Why there aren’t any female priests. Why priests can’t marry. Why there is so much pedophilia in the Catholic church. Why we’re Sieg Heiling to social issues that are the VERY REASONS I choose which political candidates to vote for, or against.

But I thought, maybe this is just a special-occasion thing. Maybe this isn’t going to happen every week. Maybe this is going to happen once in a while, and you can just stand here and 1967 conscientious-objector this shit out and all will be well.

Nope. Every week. Every week the same old “pray for the dead babies” and the “pray for the godless gays” and me standing there looking around the congregation for someone, ANYONE, who wasn’t just Heiling away their soul and not finding a single kindred spirit.

So I couldn’t go anymore. It was over for me. Just, over. Done. Other than once or twice (once because the priest mentioned in the link above was in town, and I wanted to see him because I loved him more than almost anyone, and a couple times for Christmas when my parents’ wheedling became just waaaaay too intense, before I finally put my foot down) I haven’t been back since.

Do I miss it? Yes. I miss the gorgeous ritual of it. I miss the routine. I miss the rules. I miss the pageantry and the iconography and the stories. But the magic of it was gone for me. I can’t stand behind an institution that hates women and believes that homosexuality is evil. I can’t. I wouldn’t put up with it from a politician in office, I wouldn’t put up with it from a friend, and I won’t put up with it from my church.

The worst part is, I don’t believe this is what Jesus would have wanted his church to come to, were he here today. Jesus was a progressive dude. He was all-inclusive. Back in the day, he was friends with tax collectors and whores, who were like the dregs of society, you know? He was the original hippie. And you’re telling me that a church, founded on this man’s teachings, wouldn’t change with the times and accept all people, regardless whether their plumbing’s an innie or an outie or who they choose to bed down with at the end of the night? Really? You think I’m stupid enough to go along with that?

I’ve tried other religions, because I miss the magic. I really do. I miss the belonging and I miss the belief in something. But my heart will always be with Catholicism. See, that’s why I say, don’t even attack me, because this isn’t an attack on Catholicism. I LOVE CATHOLICISM. I do. I just don’t like where it is, as opposed to where it could be. And I can’t, in good faith (heh, pun intended) back that horse.

Do I believe in God, I suppose, is your next question. And that’s a huge one, right? One that most people probably don’t even want to discuss. Well, listen, if there’s ever been a place to discuss it, it’s here, so I might as well get it out of the way. I believe in SOMETHING. I think there’s something out there. I’ve seen too many things happen that are too coincidental to be coincidences. I think there’s some sort of master plan, sure. It’s nebulous, but it’s in place. Somehow. What is it? What the hell do I know, I’m not in the inner circle. Is the higher power God? Jesus? Gaia? Buddha? The Flying Spaghetti Monster? I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW. I don’t know if there’s even a name on it, honestly. I just think there’s something. SOMETHING. And I respect the right of everyone else to believe – or not to believe at all – in their somethings, or their nothings. As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else, and as long as you don’t get too shouty about it.

So yes. I’m stubborn as hell. I won’t go to church with my family when I’m home, which upsets them to no end. But it’s not like they think – because I hate the church. It’s not that at all. It’s because if I enter a church for mass, I’d feel like I was a hypocrite, no better than that guy chowing the Egg McMuffin in the parking lot before mass. I can’t stand behind some of their most basic beliefs, so the church is not for me. If it changes? If they decide to change with the times, embrace the social issues that are dealbreakers for me? Stop railing against homosexuality, accept a woman’s right to choose, allow female priests, and allow male priests to marry? Then yes. I can see myself attending mass again. Because I do miss it.

I’m a stubborn ass. I know that. I know that’s true. But I also know I don’t belong in a room of thoughtless people with their hands raised, saluting and praying for things that they aren’t even listening to, one eye on their watches, thinking about getting home for football. I have better things to do with my Sundays. I usually spend them at a theater. That’s a kind of a church, for me. More all-inclusive. More welcoming. And, if done well? Totally a religious experience.

Clearly, there are forces at work here beyond our understanding.

I consider myself somewhat savvy. I mean, sure, I’m totally old and all, whatever, and when the kids start doing what kids do, like, oh, I don’t know, having all the sex really young or wearing pants with “Juicy” written across the ass, yes, I find that perplexing, but I just chalk that up to being old. I’m sure my parents were equally confused with teenage actions and fashions when I was going through puberty. For example, the time I decided to dress like Cyndi Lauper for Easter Mass and they made me change my clothes even though that was a totally happening outfit, you guys, seriously. I mean, all they told me was to put on a skirt. They didn’t tell me the shirt couldn’t be a flared acid-washed denim miniskirt with feetless black tights with lace around the ankles. BE MORE PRECISE IN YOUR DIRECTIONS AND MAYBE THE PROBLEM WOULDN’T HAVE OCCURRED, MOM AND DAD.

If there is new technology and I think I might find it interesting, I make an attempt to learn it. Sometimes this meets with better results than other times. Facebook? Totally learned it. It was confusing at first, but I picked up on it. It doesn’t help that they change the damn thing every six months or so (come ON, Zuckerberg, and also, am I the only one who can’t get the damn timeline to stay set on “most recent?” It always defaults back to “highlighted stories” so I’m reading stories from two days ago. I don’t care about two days ago. I already read those. Gah) and when I wanted to learn Twitter, EVEN THOUGH everyone was all “Twitter is TOTALLY LAMESAUCE” I learned Twitter and now I win Twitter so suck it, haters. I’m not having as much success with Google Plus or Tumblr, but mostly because I spend all my Google Plus energy on Facebook and all my Tumblr energy on my blog, so it seems extraneous to have another Facebook (although it’s prettier and set up better) and a smaller blog. But I HAVE them. And I UNDERSTAND them. I just don’t enjoy them as much as other people seem to do.

But there are some things I just, for the life of me, do not understand. Like, things that I have TRIED to understand, but that completely and totally elude me. And I think I’m alone in them. I’m pretty sure I’m one of the only people in the world who feels this way. I AM CONFUSED.



I tried SO HARD. I don't get it. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME.

OK, so how excited was I when I finally got my Pinterest invitation? The most excited. ALL the cool kids are on Pinterest! So I was all, “This will be a total time suck! I am the MOST excited. I cannot WAIT!”

I’ve had Pinterest for about two weeks now and how many things have I pinned? ONE.


Here are my problems with Pinterest.

First, I don’t ever come across anything on the Internet I feel is worth “pinning” so everyone can see. Mostly because I don’t look at pretty pictures online. I read dense slabs of text online. That is what I do with my online time.

Second, I am not planning a wedding, decorating a house, and I don’t cook or bake. These are the things that people seem to pin. Also, you know how some people are color-blind? I’m pretty-things blind. I mean, I see a pretty thing and I’m all “that’s pretty.” But I don’t appreciate it for its prettiness. And I don’t think, “I should pin that.” Last night, on Parks and Rec, Andy (who I love) was supposed to be finding clues for a treasure hunt. Instead, he brought back a huge gnarled branch. “I found this cool stick,” he said. “Maybe it’s a clue?” I’m Andy when it comes to Pinterest. I don’t see pretty things, even if they’re right in front of me. I see gnarly sticks that may or may not be clues.

Third, Pinterest is blocked at work, so even if I were to find something while killing time and web-surfing here, I can’t pin it. BLOCKED.

Fourth, I found some things that I randomly wanted to pin last week, and everything I clicked on said, “I don’t see a photo on this page” when clearly there WAS a photo on that page, and then come to find out you can’t pin things from Flickr, which one of the things I wanted to pin was from Flickr. The other thing wasn’t from Flickr. And there was definitely a photo on the page. Pinterest HATES me.

But people love Pinterest! SMART PEOPLE! That I love! I mean, I looked up tutorials, I’ve looked at the boards of the people I follow, I’ve tried to light the fires of Pinterest interest (heh) in my soul – NOTHING. My soul is DEAD to Pinterest. Sorry, world. I don’t get it.

Bon Iver

Even his emo FACE makes me annoyed. Even his emo BEANIE.

According to people who know things about music, Bon Iver is good. I didn’t even know who Bon Iver was. I just knew that every once and a while, this soporific crap would come on the radio and I couldn’t change the channel quickly enough.

To me, Bon Iver sound like the music you would put on repeat as you sat in the bathtub and slashed your wrists with razors and then put a dry-cleaning bag over your head for good measure.


They also sound a little like my record player used to sound when I would speed it up to make everyone sound like The Chipmunks, and a little like people talking sound when your head is underwater, and a little like Charlie Brown’s teacher.

They are everything I hate about music. They are a suicide note set to Musak.

But people seem to LOVE them. LOVE LOVE LOVE. Like, their shows sell out, and when people have tickets to a Bon Iver concert, people on Twitter are like rabidly salivating all over them all, “SO JEALOUSSSSS” and can you even IMAGINE sitting through two hours of this.

I’d put in a video, just in case you haven’t heard any of their music, but I don’t want to. I don’t want them on my blog. I DON’T WANT THEM HERE.

I realize this may make me some sort of troglodyte. What do you want from me. I said I was broken up there, did you not read that?

Family Guy

Nope. Still not funny.

I’ve watched, all-told, I think three episodes of this? Because people keep saying, “YOU HAVE TO WATCH FAMILY GUY.” And listen, I hate Family Guy. Like, HATE, hate.

I don’t think it’s funny. At all. I think it’s strangely animated, and I think the lead character’s voice is discordant, and one of the episodes I watched part of seemed to be making light of domestic violence, and this is humorous? I don’t get it.

Yet, again, VERY INTELLIGENT PEOPLE find this funny. So I’m either too old to get this, or it’s one of those shows like Arrested Development where I’m not intelligent enough to get it (but I totally usually get those shows, so I don’t think that’s it?), or I don’t like cartoons (again, probably not true, I haven’t missed an episode of The Simpsons since it started) or the rest of you people drank some sort of magic Koolaid and I wasn’t invited to the Jim Jones party. WHICH ONE IS IT.

Emo statuses on Facebook, and, subsequently, when people comment on them, saying, “I don’t want to talk about it”

The sheer fact that this graphic exists is distressing.

This is happening more and more and MORE. Listen, I’m totally the most closed-mouthed about my personal shit. I know, right now, you’re all, “LYING LIAR WHO LIES, we know ALL your personal shit.” But you don’t. You know what I want you to know of my personal shit. There is a lot of stuff I don’t tell you. There is a lot of stuff that only BFF gets, and, honestly, there’s a lot of stuff that even BFF doesn’t get. Because I was taught you keep your personal shit to YOURSELF, and you work through shit YOURSELF, and I AM A ROCK I AM AN IIIIIIIIISLAND.

But putting a status on Facebook like “You tore my heart out and stomped on it and how will I go on” and then someone comments with an “are you alright?” (NOT ME, I ignore those statuses as if they’re STDs) and you’re all “I don’t want to talk about it” CONFUSES ME. Why are you airing your dirty laundry? Don’t you have close friends you can share that with? Or, do you not have close friends? That makes me so sad for you. Is it attention-seeking? Are you attempting to get the attention of the person who scorned you? Are you just so sad you can’t help yourself and your fingers are working of their own accord? Don’t you have family on your Facebook page? Can’t they see that? Someone’s going to think you’re suicidal. Is that what you want? Do you want someone to think you’re suicidal? Is this a cry for help? WHAT IS GOING ON. I AM SO CONFUSED.

And listen, before you’re all “this is teens doing this” IT IS NOT JUST TEENS. It is ADULTS TOO. I don’t get it. Not even a little bit.

The world’s seeming obsession with Channing Tatum

Come on, ladies, seriously, this is a BRO. With a HUGE EFFING NECK AREA.

There are 43,000 actors more attractive than Channing Tatum. By the way, that’s not even a real name. It’s not even one of those “two last names” names. It’s like he picked two random street names out of a phone book and said, “That will be me now.”

Channing Tatum’s neck scares the bejeebers out of me. It’s like his head is an extension of his neck. His neck and head are the same circumference. Also, I think he seems like a bro. I hate bros.

Also, he can’t act. It’s like watching an alien from another planet attempt to fit into American society, watching this kid act. “I-AM-A-HUMAN-MALE-OF-YOUR-SPECIES.”

People luuuurrrrrve him, though. I don’t get it. There are other actors in a similar age range who actually have acting skills and necks that don’t look scary. Why don’t people obsess over those actors? Also, who put him in a movie with Rachel McAdams? If I was her, I’d have stayed in the coma. No one wants to wake up to that monstrosity at your bedside. Eek.

Yes. Yes, I know I’m probably broken. I SAID I WAS BROKEN. Whatever, I accept it. Probably I’m like poor Channing Tatum and am just attempting to fit into your human society. At least my neck is of normal circumference.

Also, I don’t know if you’re aware? But Saturday Night Live this weekend? Just found out that host: Channing Tatum. Musical guest: Bon Iver. IT IS MY WORST NIGHTMARE YOU GUYS. Maybe they’ll have a Family Guy skit and also pin a bunch of shit on Pinterest while putting up emo Facebook statuses. SO MUCH AWESOME IN ONE PLACE HOW WILL I SURVIVE.

“Apparently I’ve pleasured the swim team while jacked up on goofballs.”

Hello and happy Saturday! I totally have exciting and important posts in the works that require RESEARCH and HARD WORK but instead today we’re going to talk about sex. I KNOW TOTAL LETDOWN.

So I was playing around online (what? me? never) the other day and then started thinking about Veronica Mars (what, you don’t randomly start thinking of Veronica Mars here and there throughout your day? Shame on you) and then I thought of that purity test episode? “Like a Virgin?” From Season One? Did anyone but me watch Veronica Mars? Probably not, it got cancelled WHOO DOGIES FAST.

OK, so in the episode, people would take this purity test and then a computer hacker was selling the results and it was very embarrassing. Or maybe the results were fabricated. I don’t know. It’s been a while. I really need to rewatch it.

So then I thought, because I have ADD and SHINY, you know what, I think once I tried to take one of those purity tests, but then I kind of got bored because there were a kajillion questions so I quit. And, what was so embarrassing in those tests, I mean, kids are totally having sex when they’re like fetuses nowadays. LET’S TAKE A PURITY TEST.

And I’ll totally post my results online. Because I’m not embarrassed that I’m alternately a total whore and a completely frigid bitch.

So I decided to take this one, because there was a huge devil on the main page, and that seemed legit. Also, it gave me the option of the 1,000 question test or the 200 question test. Listen, I love you all like wildfire but I’m so not taking a 1,000 question ANYTHING, even if it would be a funny blog. I have old episodes of Grey’s Anatomy to cry over, here, I can’t just be effing around online all the hours of the day.

Also, it’s “unisex and omnisexual” which is a little worrisome but all-inclusive so that’s nice.

FIRST PAGE: Platonic Relations.

Really? That seems like a stupid place to start. Probably I’ll win this part.

After I finished that section, I was 98% pure. Hmm. Winning? I’m not sure yet. The questions were stupid and one asked if I ever shared a sleeping bag with someone without boning them. NO. Sleeping bags are HOT. I’m not getting in one of those with ANYONE. I don’t even like to get into them with myself. SO HOT. Also, I’m a restless sleeper, I’d end up strangling myself or the bonee.

SECOND PAGE: Auto-erotica and mono-sexualism.

Um. So masturbation, then? You couldn’t just say that? No? Sorry, sorry, I’m asking too many questions, carry on.

An actual question: “Have you ever bought blatant sexual objects? (This means that if you buy a bottle of Coke and you use it as a dildo, it really doesn’t count. Think: design and function.)” WHAT? COKE IS FOR DRINKING. People are doing this? Ow.

Second confusing actual question: “Have you ever made an X- or R-rated snowman/snowwoman?” Really? That seems like a huge waste of time. Also, it’s cold, and kids could see that, so maybe be less of the neighborhood creeper, thanks.

92% pure. I’m either totally winning or totally losing this, I’m not sure yet.

THIRD PAGE: Legislative misfits and other ethical questions.

Ooh! I am EXCITED ALREADY. I love ethics and the legislature! Although what they have to do with my purity I’m not quite sure. This is a lot more boring and confusing than I’d expected.

Ugh, forget it, they have NOTHING to do with the legislature. They want to know if I’m a whore and/or a thief and/or listen to other people screwing without them knowing it. This test is the suck. I WISH I was listening to someone having sex right now, seriously.

At the end of that I’m 89.5% pure. I kind of said no to everything in that section because it was all weirdo “have you ever stolen condoms from your Dad?” questions. NO THANKS SLAPPY.



Hee, they want to know if I’ve used “Spanish fly.” YES. I am starring in a teen romp!

85.5% pure now. I kind of said yes to almost everything in the drugs section except maybe the Spanish fly thing. SORRY MOM.

FIFTH PAGE: Non-platonic.

How about “non-coma-inducing.” You’d think a purity test would be a little more titillating.

Oh, this one’s all “have you ever done mutual petting” and then leads up to naughtiness. NOW WE’RE GETTING TO IT PURITY TEST.

Also, there’s this: “Have you ever had sex with someone whose name you did not know, or whose face you never saw?” Well, I mean, there are all those Eyes Wide Shut parties I go to, DO YOU MEAN THOSE?

Also, it wants to know if I ever had sex with the Pope? I might have. I mean, you never know who’s behind those masks at the Eyes Wide Shut parties.

Shit, now I’m 73.5% pure. Is this going well? I can’t tell. Would it be going better if I’d said I HAD had sex with the Pope?

SIXTH PAGE: Non-Primary Choice Relations.

I have no effing idea what that even means.

Oh, wait, shit, I didn’t even read the instructions. I was all “THESE ARE THE SAME AS THE LAST PAGE” but I’m supposed to pretend they’re with a GIRL.

Why didn’t they just say “Pretend you’re with someone you don’t want to bump uglies with” at the top or something? This is getting totally difficult and I think might be trying to trick me. I WILL NOT BE FOOLED, PURITY TEST.

I’m still 73.5% pure. Apparently, kissing a girl for like .004 seconds in college didn’t even count for anything. DAMMIT YOU STRINGENT PURITY TEST.

SEVENTH PAGE: Alternate Choices.

That sounds like the school you’d be sent to if all the other schools kicked you out.

ZOMG they want to know if I had sex with a dead horse in this section. That’s certainly a choice. And it’s alternate. I’m going to say no to that one.

Also: “Have you ever practiced role-playing? (nurse-patient, teacher-student, border guard-well endowed co-ed, etc.)” What the hell? “Border guard-well endowed co-ed?” That’s a thing? That seems oddly specific and totally hysterical. I don’t think I could play that without cracking up halfway through. That would ruin the mood, right? Does the well-endowed co-ed crack up halfway through the border guard’s patdown?

I’m now 73% pure. I didn’t get a lot of questions right in that section. The dead horse thing made me totally nervous.

EIGHTH PAGE: Group Sexual Relations.

Can I just tell you right now I will end up with a 73% without even having READ any of the questions? No? FINE. I’m doing this for SCIENCE.

It wants to know if I ever walked in on people having sex – which it calls “committing an OOPS” – then joined in on the “OOPS.” That’s totally rude, what is this, a French film? NO, TEST. NO ONE DOES THAT.

Yep. As I thought. Still 73% pure. I don’t even like ONE person touching me very much, I can’t imagine I’d like MORE than one. Ugh.

NINTH PAGE: Extracurricular Deviant Conduct: Non-Sentient Objects

This is totally going to ask me about that Coke bottle again.

And! First question! COKE BOTTLE. Seriously, stop it. OUCH.

It also wants to know if I’ve ever used a ball gag. Now, listen, I totally have? But it was in a play, and I was the props mistress, and I had to put it on the guy every night? So probably that’s not what they mean. But it still makes me laugh that, YES, technically, I TOTALLY HAVE. Deviant!

72% pure. And 100% bored. This is totally taking my whole life to complete.

TENTH PAGE: Extracurricular Deviant Conduct: Locality

Let me guess. You want to know if I took my Coke bottle outside.

Mostly this wanted to know if I’ve ever done ANYTHING, including “neck” (WHO EVEN SAYS THAT ANYMORE GRANDMA) in places like boats, churches, trucks, snowbanks, and rooftops. I totally won this section.

69% pure. Told you. I used to make out ALL OVER THE PLACE. I totally made out in a church once. And a boat. I know, I was all teens-gone-wild for a while. It was all very Lifetime Movies for Women.

ELEVENTH PAGE: Extracurricular Deviant Conduct: Style

If this asks “Have you ever had sex then done jazz hands” I’m giving myself a gajillion points. That’s STYLE, baby.

Ooh, this is the last section. That’s totally exciting.

OK, this one wants to know if you like people to pee on you. That’s not STYLE. That’s MESSY.

Final answer: 65% pure.

So is that winning? Seriously, in order to get this lower, you have to do some really weird porn-star stuff. I’m not jazzed about that.

There’s a nice list of people on the side-scroll whose scores are presented. Depending on how we score, I am doing either better or worse than “ForeverAlone” who has 93% (aw! babe! You can totally fix that by the second page, that’s so sad!) “DJ Rayray” has 33.6%, which makes me worried about him and he’s totally outside my house building a naughty snowperson AS WE SPEAK, isn’t he, and someone named “NOT BAD FOR A VIRGIN, EH?” got 75.4%. Not bad, Canadian virgin. NOT BAD AT ALL. If by “bad” you mean “whatever these scores mean because I am totally confused and I think I’m totally too old to have taken this test.”

What have we learned, interwebs?

  • Purity tests are kind of the suck;
  • It IS possible to be bored shitless by something sex-related, who knew;
  • If something has the devil on the front page it doesn’t mean it’s going to be interesting;
  • The kids on Veronica Mars were making a big deal out of nothing and I probably need to do a rewatch because it isn’t really clear to me why they were bugshit crazy over this;
  • People seriously need to think about things before they use them for purposes other than what they were designed for (Coke bottles? I’m going to have nightmares about this, I swear)
  • I’m never going to be able to hear the phrase “don’t beat a dead horse” without laughing like a moron EVER AGAIN.

Enjoy your Saturday, my little perverty ruffians! Watch out for naughty snowpeople!

%d bloggers like this: