I don’t normal take those on-line quizzes . . . You know the ones I’m talking about.
What Disney character are you most like?
What Rock and Roll Band are you most like?
Which Harry Potter character are you?
Which superhero are you?
What Olympian God/Goddess are you most like?
What animal are you?
What color are you?
Seriously? What color am I? Do I not have a mirror?
But if you have ever ventured into the vast wasteland of Facebook, these quizzes are rampant. But for some reason, one of them caught my eye recently. Maybe it was because of this eye image that accompanied the advertisement:
I thought I already knew the answer to this one. SEX. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I think about it nearly all the time. I don’t know why. I’ve always assumed that this was normal. And the people who are not obsessed with it–they are what we call liars. So I was ready to test this scientific assessment to see if it came up with the correct answer.
So I clicked on a series of pictures they displayed before me–and I tried to be as honest as possible since none of them really reminded me of sex anyway–even those inkblots don’t look like anything to me except evidence that your pen is leaking and you need a new pen–and the end result was that my subconscious is apparently obsessed with . . .
The only time I really commune with nature is when I run–and I do love to run outside, braving the worst of elements to avoid the dreadmill or elliptical. We do have two dogs, but getting the dogs was not my idea. In fact, I went on record saying I didn’t want even one dog, let alone two. I put my foot down–right into a pile of puppy poop. It’s not that I don’t like my dogs–I do. But I am not obsessed with them. I hate cats. I loathe cats. Truth be told, I am deathly allergic to cats and have almost ended up in the hospital unable to breathe thanks to these itchy, scratchy, wheezy little varmints. The only good cat is a dead one, and sometimes I have to back over them nine times to make sure I get all their lives.
I do like cows. Hamburgers and steaks are my favorite. And pigs. I love me some bacon. So maybe I am an animal person after all.
Camping? Please. If there isn’t indoor plumbing, heat and a/c, and a bed to sleep on, I’ll pass. If there’s cable TV, I’m there. No Wifi? No thank you.
Hiking? Is that running up hill at a slow pace? OK, maybe.
Makes me think about nature while doing grocery shopping, cooking . . . okay let’s just stop right there. I don’t grocery shop and I do not cook. I have trouble making grilled cheese sandwiches.
Where did I go wrong? How could I be obsessing about nature, when I’m so busy obsessing about sex?
Then it hit me. My obsession with sex was conscious. Subconsciously, I might be obsessing about nature. Maybe having sex outdoors, getting au naturel, or something like that.
What color am I? Maybe I should take that test too. . . .could be any one of fifty shades of grey.