When the Cult of Personality Offers Koolaid, YOU DRINK IT.

I enjoy taking online personality tests when I have downtime. I assume a lot of people do – there are a lot of websites dedicated to them. Now, before you go judging me, I don’t mean the “What Twilight Character are You?” Facebook quizzes (because, obviously, the Twilight character I am is the one who stands up and says “REAL VAMPIRES DON’T SPARKLE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLY” and that character wasn’t written into the book – obviously due to a major tween conspiracy.) I mean the real kind – your personality type, what psychological disorders you have, things like that. Because everyone wants to be more self-aware and/or scare the ever-loving shit out of themselves!

First, today, I took this one.  It’s the Myers-Briggs personality indicator.  You’re scored on four “dichotomies” – you either score higher as an extrovert or introvert, sensing or intuition, thinking or feeling and judgment or perception. You get a four-letter code and with this code, you’re supposed to be able to figure out what job you’d be best at.

I got INFJ – I’m an introverted intuitive feeling judgementalist. Apparently, only 1-3% of society scores in this percentile (which makes me either the special snowflake I’ve always assumed I am and proves my detractors wrong over all these years, or maybe a psychopath, proving them oh-so-correct.) According to the internet, things this me:

Possibly psychic

Artistic and creative

“They are usually right, and they usually know it” (thank you, Internet! Wait, is that a jab?)

“experience health problems when under a lot of stress” (not so cool, Internet, back to the good stuff)

“stubbornness and tendency to ignore other people's opinions” (whoa, Internet! I refuse to accept this diagnosis! Wait! I am proving you correct! DAMN YOU INTERNET!)

INFJ’s either excel as counselors, artists, writers, or in service professions (so, either I can do something creative that probably doesn’t pay my rent, help people who are more screwed-up than me, or work at McDonald’s? Um, thanks?)

In summation: “Life is not necessarily easy for the INFJ.” (INTERNET! You are DEAD to me right now!)

OK, fine. Now that I am thoroughly depressed and apparently an artistic psychic who is a stubborn, willful sickly one-of-a-kind and therefore lonely individual, let’s move onto something more entertaining and totally accurate.

TweetPsych! TweetPsych only works if you’re on Twitter, and active on Twitter. Put in your Twitter name and Tweetpsych analyzes all of your Tweets and tells you what you talk about more and less than the average Twitter user.

A sampling of things, per TweetPsych, I talk about much more than the average Twitter user:

Myself (I don’t know how you can’t do this on Twitter)

The past

Sex (I…don’t think I do, really? But according to TweetPsych, I talk about sex 58% more than the average user. Which makes me feel a little whorish. Sorry, everyone, for being such a Twitter slut. I’ll try to control myself from now on.)

Negative things

The future (apparently, I have no interest in the present)

Positive things (ugh, TweetPsych, you are giving me a mixed message here)

Anxiety (well, these personality tests aren’t helping)

Emotions (I do have a lot of these. And it’s entertaining to share them.)

The present (ok, TweetPsych, I like all frames of time reference more than the average Twitter user, touché to you)

Control (being in it? Out of it? Not sure)

Social (very vague)

And things I don’t talk about enough:

Dreams (I don’t sleep enough to dream. I’m extremely sleep-deprived. Thanks for the reminder, TweetPsych.)

Leisure (I should talk about my leisure activities more? Ugh, fine. I sat on my couch last night for an hour reading a book. Exciting!)

Constructive (this says I should talk about building and creating things more. Well, way to make me feel like an unproductive member of society.)

Learning (I been done with book-larnin’ fer years now. No more readin’ for me! It’s all loud TV and US Weekly from here on out!)

Work (listen, TweetPsych, I’m not talking about work, because THAT GETS YOU FIRED. Then I would be talking about UNEMPLOYMENT.)

So in summation of this report, I am self-absorbed, obsessed with sex and time frames in both the positive and negative sense, and a socially anxious control freak. Um…kind of yes.

After taking these, I decided there needed to be something more all-inclusive and infinitely more awesome. There hasn’t really been a test developed that gets to the heart of what makes people tick and helps best figure them out. I thought, I’m hip, I’m fairly self-aware, I could come up with one. Also, the test would be named after me, and then my fortune would be made.

The Lucy’s Football Totally Awesome Superstar Miss Kitty Fantastico Personality Test

(not a real test)

(please do not answer these questions and send them to me, I will not grade them)

(no, seriously, there is no answer key, and I don’t want to have to come up with one)

(fine, but if you do it, I’m going to make up a really, really negative personality type for you, like “Anal Monster Self-Hater” and then you’ll be sorry)

Yes or No Portion

I often find myself angry to the point of a throbbing headache at shitty drivers Y   N

I do not like green eggs and ham; I do not like them, Sam I Am   Y   N

I think my own problems far eclipse everyone else’s, although I pretend to care about theirs, because listen, what kind of psychopath doesn’t pretend to listen? A friendless one   Y    N

I feel bad for those less fortunate than me, but I don’t engage them in conversation, because once you show compassion, they start following you EVERYWHERE and then you can’t get any work done   Y    N

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, but my frozen yogurt makes them leave in disgust   Y    N

I often talk to people who aren’t there, because I am scintillatingly entertaining, even while alone, and you can’t turn this kind of charm off if you TRY   Y   N

I think that dark forces are working against me (or, when someone douchey falls and I get to see it, for me)    Y    N

I’d rather stay home and watch Ghost Hunters than go out and interact with my peers, unless there is cake, then all bets are off   Y     N

I’m the one people go to when they have a problem they need advice for, only they can’t find me because I hastily departed when I heard the rumor they were coming and I didn’t want to deal with their piddly whiny shit   Y     N

I was aware Duckie from Pretty in Pink was gay upon first viewing and confused that he didn’t seem aware of that fact, even as the credits rolled   Y    N

Multiple Choice (circle one)

You find $20 on the ground outside of the library. You:

a. Keep it

b. Bring it into the library and ask if anyone reported $20 missing

c. Keep it, but donate it to a good cause

d. Find the people who chose answers b or c and beat them with whatever awesome thing you bought with your free $20

Your car won’t start, and you will be late for an important meeting at work. You:

a. Call work, apologize, promise to get there as soon as you can, and call a cab

b. Call Triple A and start screaming “My job is ON THE LINE!!!”

c. Call Triple A, call work, and patiently wait for a tech to arrive

d. Say “free day off, mofos!” and kick back with reruns of “The A-Team”

Your younger sister comes to you. She’s pregnant and needs advice. You:

a. Listen to her, gently console her, and help her work through her options

b. Shun her for her sins and make her wear a scarlet letter throughout the land

c. Find the boy involved and beat his ass for not caring enough about your sister to use protection

d. High-five your sister for getting some, tell her, “tough break, kiddo,” and advise her to watch one of those teen mom-type shows on that the kids like nowadays for advice

e. Whatever. Don’t care. Still watching “The A-Team.”

Your favorite book is:

a. Fear of Flying

b. Goodnight Moon

c. The Bible

d. Screw books – internet porn, baby!

You are given 24 hours to live. You spend your day:

a. With family and friends, reminiscing about days gone by

b. Doing something high-energy, like skydiving or bungee-jumping

c. In private meditation, preparing for things to come

d. 24 hours? Hookers and blow. Did you really ask that stupid question?

Short-answer portion – in one to three sentences, please answer the following questions:

1.       Please explain yourself.

2.       No, seriously. I can’t even begin to figure you out.

3.       I mean, who wears clothes like that? Those weren’t even in style when they were selling them.

4.       Oh, they’re “retro chic?” Yeah, I have a word for that. “Douchebaggy.”

5.       What do you mean, #2 wasn’t even a question, and #4 was kind of rhetorical? Who’s writing this, you or me?

6.       Fine, here’s a question for you: were you born this much of an asshat, or did you actually practice, and take classes, and study super-duper hard, and ace all the exams, and graduate Magna Cum Asshat?

7.       Oh, I’m “resorting to juvenile namecalling” now, am I? Fine. Well, you smell like poop, and trucker caps are stupid. Also I used all of the gas in your car yesterday and didn’t tell you so when you try to go to work tomorrow you won’t be able to get there.

8.       What do you mean, “How can I be so inconsiderate?” Did you ever think that maybe you would have gotten in an accident on your way to work today? That would make me a life-saver, now, wouldn’t it? You’re welcome.

9.       Where are you going?

10.   For a walk?

11.   Don’t expect you back anytime soon, or maybe ever?

12.   Fine. Fine. That’s so typical. Hurry, I think there’s a vintage t-shirt shop in Soho going out of business – someone else might buy up all of the ironic ones, and then where would that leave you?

Essay portion – grammar will be a factor, because I love it and it’s my goddamn test:

In one to infinity paragraphs, explain why I can’t finish a half-gallon of milk before it goes bad, even though nothing else in my fridge spoils before I get to it.

There you go, Internet! Remember, there are no wrong answers, only right ones and the ones that prove you’re going to spend the rest of your life forever alone and/or in a padded room.