So today’s post, like the previous one, is accompanied by coffee. Gevalia brand, to be exact. No beer in sight…but there’s a good chance there will be later. I am trying to find the best time of day to squash my procrastinating writing ways once and for all, and it seems morning is better for me. This might mean I will have to try Founder’s breakfast stout after all, which has never sounded appealing until now. I sit in my son’s now unoccupied bedroom, at his old desk, and hope his creative aura still lingers enough to make its way into my words. I will try not to be sad at what is not here anymore, be grateful he is on his way to his own life. Our cat sits on my notebook next to me, covering up my chicken scratch post-its, and any sadness quickly evaporates. Aided by addressing the topic at hand, which is that of those ridiculous internet quizzes.

Yes, that’s right. Of all the things to opine about, I am choosing “what Disney princess are you?” and “what your favorite song says about you” nonsense, because if I see one more of these damned things clogging up my newsfeed I WILL SCREAM.

Mind you, these are only two fairly lame examples. Call me a glutton for punishment, but I checked out what seems to be at least one source of all this braininess: Buzzfeed.  I figured in all fairness I should do a little investigating, see if there was some more substantial stuff out there.

Um…not  so much.

The reigning subject that I discovered was that of all things Taylor Swift. Such as, “Which Taylor Swift album are you?”, “Which Taylor Swift lyric should be on your grave?,” and, “Which Taylor Swift BFF are you?.” Aaggghh!

Now, I understand there is a generational gap here. I find her music, persona, everything about her, incredibly uninteresting and bland. Sure, I no longer writhe in teen angst…but when I did I at least listened to Bruce Springsteen moaning about being down by the loveless river. (Now there’s a songwriter who has tombstone-worthy lyrics…and I wouldn’t need a quiz now or then to tell me which of his albums are “me.” Then again, the album I would’ve picked at seventeen vs. now would be totally different. Hey, this sounds like a quiz in the making! Which Bruce Are You? Jersey Girl era, or Born in the USA?

Wait! The aura may be working, because I have an idea…

Maybe this could be my big writing break. Instead of toiling for hours not getting paid and reaching about ten people, I could try to attract thousands of pubescent followers! I could make money telling them if their favorite toenail color is cornflower blue, it must mean they are a sympathetic friend, a PMS psycho, and that they hate McDonald’s french fries because it makes their skin break out. Oh, and they hate their parents 50% of the time, too. Meadow gold girls would be romantics who want to be swept off their feet by their dream prince, Justin Bieber! In between hating their siblings ALL of the time. Wow…this could be maliciously fun and insanely easy.

I think I might be a bit too churlish for the sweet innocents.

I have sympathy for them, though. I get the appeal of these quizzes for the teen set, because at sixteen you are frantically searching for any shred of identity clue you can find. So how does one explain the explosion of quizzes on Facebook, where the majority of my friends are middle aged? Shouldn’t you kind of know by now if you are a dog or cat person? Acoustic or heavy metal? Missionary or on top? Organizer or hoarder? Founder’s Two-Hearted Ale, or Miller Lite? Bonus points for you if you picked Founder’s….chances are you’re not sure what it is, but you know you don’t like anything that tastes and looks like pee.  So, see? You know more about yourself than you think.

I’m pretty sure my peeps are not doing the Taylor Swift quizzes, but a zillion variations of, “what decade are you really from?, movie and media characters that reveal hidden traits, what city/country/type of house do you really belong in? to, “which pinklady from Grease are you?” Yes, it’s all there, along with results that are teeth-grittingly, annoyingly cliche’, and comments like: “Whaatt? This is sooo not me.”  Followed by a different, more desirable result: “Oh yes, this is sooo me. Spot on.”  Seriously. Some hack is probably looking up horoscopes and old Star magazine issues to make these questions up, in between taking hits off a joint, while fragile self-esteems hang in the balance.

Dear friends, please don’t get offended if you are one of these test-takers. I would be bummed if you unfriended me, I really would. I understand that completing the quizzes is likely “just for fun,” and that you are probably (I hope) not taking it seriously. But I have to say, if you spend more than one millisecond analyzing what the “results” mean…you have problems. In the insecurity realm, and toomuchtimeonyourhands kind of problems.

And now, I am one of those who have too much time on their hands, because I trolled until I found a suitable quiz to take. I surmised I had to, so this little piece would be unbiased. I settled on, “What kind of Sexy are you?”…thinking my husband might get a chuckle or two out of my outcome.

I knew immediately I was still in the inappropriate age category by the second question, “What is your secret fantasy?”

One of the choices was: “getting it on while his parents aren’t looking during their next holiday bash.” Even back in the day when this could have been a feasible option, I wouldn’t have found it a thrill. Fumbling, four minute sex? No thank you. So, I picked mile-high club. This is because I think at some point in the distant past, before I had ever seen that an airplane lavatory has enough space for an eight year old child, I thought it sounded fun. Now when I try to visualize it, I just picture Ebola germs and getting sucked down into that little bowl from the air pressure when you flush. Not exactly setting the mood.

After plodding through more unlikely scenarios, I anxiously awaited my results. Here is what it said: “You are Sweet Sexy! You romantic sentimental, you…you are the TAYLOR SWIFT go-to girl! Own your adorable-ness…it lures them in!” I swear to God, I am not making this up. It had to be the “What bra is your spirit animal?” question that did me in. I picked plain, unexciting white over black lace. I don’t like that scratchy stuff, even though it appears to drive men wild. Guess I have to own my adorable-ness to lure him in…lucky for me he’s an easy (and worthy) catch.

And now, the stress over being compared to the horribly dull Ms. Swift is driving me to crack open that Founder’s. Maybe I can drum up a quiz that could tell you which craft beer drinker you are, even if you aren’t. Now THAT would be something actually worth taking, with a result you could depend on. And trust me, your life would be vastly improved. Stay tuned…

Cheers!