Hamm Lovers PSA

Our boy's on 30 Rock tonight.

(humble thanks to KOFA for reminding me to remind all of you)


Oh, and P.S. - Jon Hamm confirmed me as a friend.
I fucking LOVE Facebook.

Four Years Running, Bitches!

Your result for The Personality Defect Test...

Class Clown

You are 29% Rational, 86% Extroverted, 57% Brutal, and 71% Arrogant.

You are the Class Clown. This means you wear grease paint and have a big, red nose...

I really need to stop thinking so literally...

Anyway, I MEANT to say that you are the Class Clown, and this means that you are extroverted, mean, and arrogant. You are not very rational, so you gravitate towards things that produce feelings or emotions over thoughts (like fart jokes or spitballs, for instance). You are also an extrovert and rather full of yourself, so of course you want constant attention for yourself and think you are somehow better than others. (Upon hearing the expression "you are full of yourself", you probably also slyly feel the need to ask women if they would like to be "full of yourself" too. I am assuming you have a penis. I often make that assumption, being fond of the penis.) You can also be a bit mean-spirited, and like a class clown you wouldn't hesitate to make a joke at someone else's expense, no matter how terrible it would make them feel. A lot of people probably find your antics annoying, sophomoric, and desperately histrionic. Like some sort of crack-taking hyperactive monkey, you'd do anything, mock anyone, just to get someone to pay attention to you for five seconds. So your personality defects are that you have to be the center of attention, that you don't care about others, and that you are rather irrational and motivated by intuitions. Now stop walking around with those books on your head and sit down this instant! Or else I'll be forced to stand here, hands on my hips, doing nothing once again!

To put it less negatively:

1. You are more INTUITIVE than rational.

2. You are more EXTROVERTED than introverted.

3. You are more BRUTAL than gentle.

4. You are more ARROGANT than humble.

Compatibility:

Your exact opposite is the Robot.

Other personalities you would probably get along with are the Schoolyard Bully, the Smartass, and the Brute.

*

*

If you scored near fifty percent for a certain trait (42%-58%), you could very well go either way. For example, someone with 42% Extroversion is slightly leaning towards being an introvert, but is close enough to being an extrovert to be classified that way as well. Below is a list of the other personality types so that you can determine which other possible categories you may fill if you scored near fifty percent for certain traits.

The other personality types:

The Emo Kid: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Starving Artist: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Bitch-Slap: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Brute: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

The Hippie: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Televangelist: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Schoolyard Bully: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Class Clown: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

The Robot: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Haughty Intellectual: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Spiteful Loner: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Sociopath: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

The Hand-Raiser: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Braggart: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Capitalist Pig: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Smartass: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

Be sure to take my Sublime Philosophical Crap Test if you are interested in taking a slightly more intellectual test that has just as many insane ramblings as this one does!

About Saint_Gasoline

I am a self-proclaimed pseudo-intellectual who loves dashes. I enjoy science, philosophy, and fart jokes and water balloons, not necessarily in that order. I spend 95% of my time online, and the other 5% of my time in the bathroom, longing to get back on the computer. If, God forbid, you somehow find me amusing instead of crass and annoying, be sure to check out my blog and my webcomic at SaintGasoline.com.

Take The Personality Defect Test at HelloQuizzy

More Facebook Fun

So remember my description of my high school, that I'm going to go ahead and call George Dubya High School (GWHS)? I got invited to join the newly-formed GWHS Pride group on Facebook. That's Pride, as in, y'know, PRIDE (two snaps up in a circle).

Those crazy hommasekshuls.

It did my heart good to see that such a group exists. It can't be easy to be out n' proud at any high school, let alone Dubya High, where we're all taught to fit the mold.

I will proudly support Pride!

Don't Say I Never Gave Ya Nuthin.

Facebook Update.

So I'm on there now, and one of my sorority sisters (and, shortly thereafter, a TON of my sorority sisters) have found me. Not sure how I feel about that.

They're kinda on the cusp between High School Me and the Me you know and love. The 3-year period of time when I was just figuring out how much fun it was to break the rules I'd lived by up to then. It was a pivotal point in my life.

So I'm a little concerned that one of the EK's will drop something like "Hey, Sarah, remember the time you did that pyramid of Jaeger shots and danced topless on the bar at Harpo's and you tried to kiss the bartender but you fell off and broke about fifty liqour bottles and you had to go to the ER with shards of glass in your boobs?? You showed EVERYBODY those scars! That was HILARIOUS! You're fuckin CRAZY, girrrrl!!!!"

I will neither confirm nor deny the veracity of the above story.

The obvious downside of Facebook is that everybody can see everything you do - every comment, whatever groups you join, all that shit. This is a double-edged sword. There's no privacy (my advice - don't join Facebook if privacy's important to you), but it could also be amusing. I'm kicking around the idea of joining the Pain Sluts group, just for fun. Shock value and whatnot.

So far the thing I like most about Facebook is seeing which of my high school tormentors are fatter than me.

ETA: And another thing I like is lingering pettiness. Get this - I actually had a friend request REJECTED. Only thing I can think of is she's still pissed I slept with her boyfriend seventeen years ago.

Geez, bitch, the way I see it, I did you a favor. He wasn't that good. You should be thanking me.

Just an extra value for your blogroll dollar.

Finding banned Super Bowl ads and posting them for y'all's edification.

Enjoy.



Nice to see that they object to the unethical treatment of animals, but they don't mind making women look like pieces of meat.

Top quality meat, I'll give them that, but you get my point.

The Good And Bad Of Social Websites.

Note: I originally started drafting this entry back in November. THAT's how long I've been stewing about this.

My high school alumni organization wants me to join their group on Facebook.

I don't know if I really want to. There's a lot of shit they don't know about me, that I don't want them to know. Like, for instance, that I have a blog in which I mock and berate stupid people while emptying a magazine of obscenities.

Let's just say, I was a MUCH different person in high school.

ETA: First, lemme give you a bit of background about my high school. Among its distinguished alumni are George W. Bush's head speech writer AND his chief fundraiser. They're uberconservative and uberproud of it. Republican to the MARROW. You had to sign something when you applied to go there that said you wouldn't drink or even dance while you were a student - on or off school grounds. We didn't have dances. We had Banquets. You looked forward to the Junior/Senior BANQUET. Yeah.

(Anybody hearing the song "Footloose" in their head right now?)

When I started there, we couldn't wear shorts or even jeans. For a while, (before I got there, thank God) girls had to wear skirts or dresses to school every day. Eventually they lightened up and let the kids wear shorts, when they got a new Headmaster who was from Florida. You'd get detention for not wearing a belt if your pants had belt loops. I'm not kidding. I was on the Pom Pom team (shut up) and we had to wear skirts that covered our knees. Other schools made fun of us.

Sound like one of those creepy polygamist sects, kinda?

I think I'm way more fun than I was then, but I can't deny the existence of the Me I was in 1989, before I'd ever had a drink, or a one-night-stand, or pierced nipples, or became an unwed mother, or experienced many of the things that would shock the shit out of the crowd I hung out with in high school.

I'm sure they all have their own stories, too. I mean, I can't be the only one with a dark side. But I haven't joined the church that a lot of my high school friends go to because I converted to Catholicism when I got married. That really doesn't even have anything to do with it - I was never Presbyterian like most of the families at my school, but that was never really my scene anyway. I never had visions of my kids befriending my friends' kids and living on the same street and seeing them every day and twice on Sunday. It always felt like Inbreeding to me - like where the Children of the Corn came from.

I don't miss high school. I miss my friends, sure, but I feel so fake whenever I run into someone who knew High School Me. My kids go to public school. I buy their clothes at Goodwill. I occasionally tell them to shut up. Some days I hate my life. I take anti-depressant medication. We don't go to church much. I like to be tied up and spanked. I voted for Barack Obama.

Any one of those things would be enough to trigger the Emergency Prayer Chain. But they're ALL me.

Long story short, I created a new Facebook account specifically for this alumni group. And I'm really conflicted about the fact that I felt I had to do that. It's actually caused me a great deal of anxiety this week.

Why do I filter myself from some people? Because it's easier than explaining or defending the choices I've made and the life that I have? Am I sparing them the uncomfortable details, or sparing myself from revealing them? Why can't I just be who I am and not Nerf it down for sake of simplicity? What does it matter what they think of me, especially now? Do I even care if I fit in with these people? I never did then, and I want to even less now.

So here's the funny part. I was challenged to write 25 things about myself. These are probably all things that you already know, so I won't list them, but of course I made it funny because, fuck, I just can't help it. I'm hilarious.

And somebody said "You should have a blog!!"

NWA. NSFW.

You are now about to witness the strength of street knowledge.

Sort of.



I've said it before and I'll say it again -

Life ain't nuttin but bitches and money.

This Week's Spelling Words Include

Bulged and Jostled.

(insert Beavis and Butthead laugh)

Legends Live On.

A little while ago, Pie had to take a picture of his family to school for a writing project. I'm sure many parents probably look forward to reading what their sweet angel says they love about being in The Perfect Family.

With my kids, I've learned to mentally prepare myself for the possibility of some loosely-guarded family secret becoming public knowledge, such as the little tidbits Tito has bestowed upon his teacher and God knows who else. Tito's kinda notorious for telling it like it is, as I wrote a few posts ago.

And really, it's not like I would care if he said something like "my family pees with the bathroom door open" or "sometimes my mom and dad lock the door to their bedroom", "mom blows her nose on the sheets", or even "my mom wears earrings in her boobies".

I mean, hell, obviously I share extremely personal stuff with total strangers on here all the time, but to me, there's a certain safety in the anonymity of it. I would NEVER be as open with the details of my life if I were introducing myself to a room full of strangers.

I know some people might know me if they saw me on the street, and I know that if someone recognized me it would probably be from my blog, and if you read my blog and don't think I'm a complete douche, then walk right up and gimme a hug and ask me if I've got my Power Panties on. Or tweak my nips or something. G'head, we're all friends here.

Anyway, back to Tito telling it like it is. Remember Mother's Day last year?

I have this masterpiece posted on my pantry door.





Here's what Pie said about our family. Oh, and here's the picture he used, from 3 years ago. At least it's a decent picture of all of us.



I love my family because they are funny. My family loves to have fun. We play games together. Our favorite game is Sorry. [NOTE: I should point out that this isn't the board game Sorry like you're probably assuming, this is punching each other in the arm on purpose and yelling "Sorry!!" It's fun.] We love holidays because Santa will bring presents. We also love bakeing (sic). My mom has made bad cakes but we love them anyway. My family is very very special. I love my family very much.

I'm thinking about changing my name to PENNY BADCAKES. What do you think? I created a Rock Band rocker named Penny Badcakes. And my band name? Kitchen Nightmares.

Apart from my culinary ineptitude, I'm also legendary for my Ubercompetitiveness. This weekend was our virgin Pinewood Derby experience. There are several things I learned along the way.

1. This Pinewood Derby thing is an ENORMOUS PAIN IN THE ASS. But honestly, a contest of who can win something that's an enormous pain in the ass to put together appeals to me even more than a contest that requires me to do something easy. (See, it's not about the winning, it's about the challenge.)

2. To begin, you get a BLOCK OF WOOD. That's it. The rest is up to you. You're supposed to make it aerodynamic and cool-lookin, or at least one or the other. And, as I mentioned, it is an ENORMOUS PAIN IN THE ASS.

3. Your extremely capable husband may do most of the work, but don't think you're going to be able to wash your hands of it completely. I had to go to Lowe's - by myself, with a list - and it took me forty minutes to locate two items. Ok, I admit I spent most of the time giggling at hardware-related terminology that sounds dirty, but I had a bitch of a time finding this shit.



How was I supposed to find Epoxy Putty when they don't call it Epoxy Putty??? Show me where on the tube it says the word EPOXY!!!

4. Your husband may become very, very difficult to live with during this process. This will be a MAJOR test of your relationship. Try not to be a twat, even when you hear power tools after midnight.



5. If you're not a rocket surgeon, go for the Design Category. We went for creativity. HERE is our original submission.



6. There are RULES. And they're inflexible. The maximum weight your car can be is 5 ounces. When R pronounced it Done and weighed it the first time, it was 5.7 ounces. The second time it was 5.3, the third time 5.1, and finally, about 30 minutes before the whole thing started, 5.0. Drilling holes in the bottom of your car will reduce weight, as will sanding the fuck out of it. By the time we made weight, the wheels were barely hanging on.



7. This event takes ALL FUCKIN DAY. We got there before 9am, and didn't leave until after 1. Each car races six times. Pie's car almost didn't make it. He had to push it across the finish line. Finished dead last in six out of six races. We figured that the design would be funny either way. Either it would be ironic if it happened to be fast, or if it was slow, what did you expect? It's a fuckin TURTLE.

8. It's really cool to see your kid win a trophy. Pie took third place for Funniest in the Design category. The son of the Den Leader took first (hmmmm...), so Pie was extremely proud. And so was R.



ANOTHER TEAM KARMA TRIUMPH!