Quiz: Am I a girl or not?

I’ve been home sick for a couple of days.  For the most part I’ve just been curled up miserably, waiting for the worst of it to pass.  When that palls, though, I’ve been reading trashy articles on What Guys Like and How To Tell If He’s The One.  I always get it wrong–I don’t know what guys like and I couldn’t tell if he’s the one if you put a gun to my head.  It’s left me with some confusion:  am I a girl or not?

So, in honor of all the quizzes I’ve been doing about What Jeans Are Best For Your Body Shape and Which Sex Goddess Are You, I’ve created a quiz for all those who are with me on the whole Cosmo-doesn’t-always-speak-for-me front.  If you like, you can take this quiz pretending you’re me and see if you think I’m a girl, or you can take it for yourself.  Either way, have fun, and tell me your results!  I promise I won’t make fun of you.  To your face.  And for heaven’s sake:  this is meant as a joke!

A.  You’ve been dating a guy for three months.  You think he’s great, he thinks you’re beautiful without your makeup, all is paradise.  He takes you out somewhere special and, after dinner, hands you a gift: an emerald bracelet.  You think:

  1. How thoughtful!  And so beautiful!  I wonder if there’s a matching necklace coming in another three months…
  2. Gonna have to take out a rider on the homeowner’s insurance for this one.
  3. When have I ever worn a bracelet around him?
  4. That’s really expensive for a three month ‘anniversary.’  And who celebrates three month anniversaries, anyway?
  5. I hope he doesn’t mind that I only got him a subscription to Real Simple.

B.  You’re out about town, running some errands.  You pass a new shoe store and:

  1. Go in, duh!
  2. Leave an impression of your nose against the glass, but don’t actually go in.  You can tell just by looking that the shoes in the store are outside your budget.
  3. Think, I should probably get some new nude pumps one of these days…and keep walking.  You’re probably good for another 6 months or so.
  4. Think, if I wore any of the shoes in the window of that store, I would snap my ankles before I made it to the sidewalk.  Why do women do that to themselves?
  5. Think, Isn’t that where the kitchen supplies store was?  Now where am I going to get a decent pasta maker?

C.  You have three free hours that must, for various reasons, be spent at a very large shopping mall, and for once you have some disposable income.  You:

  1. Thank the shopping gods that you wore a button-down shirt (won’t mess up the hair when changing in dressing rooms), take a look over the mall directory, and map out a plan of campaign.
  2. Take a minute to think about what you actually need to buy, make all your purchases in a department store, then buy a magazine and stow away in the Food Court.
  3. Take a look at what you want to buy in the stores, then look online with your smartphone and find out that you can buy it for half that much online, finally leaving without purchasing anything.
  4. Look only at the bargain racks of every store you enter, leaving with five bags full of various items you may or may not actually need that cost you a total of $37.29.
  5. Hit the kitchenware first.  Hey, you’ve been looking for a decent pasta maker ever since that shoe store replaced the kitchen supply store in your neighborhood.

D.  One of your girlfriends has just broken up with her long-term boyfriend and is a sobbing mess on her living room floor.  You, as one of her dearest friends:

  1. Rush over armed with ice cream, wine, and movies, collecting the rest of your friends on the way for maximum comfort.
  2. Rush over armed with minor explosives and the blueprints to the bastard’s house, collecting the rest of your friends on the way for an all-out assault.
  3. Post a comforting, supportive message on Facebook, then finish eating dinner.
  4. Finish eating dinner, then post a comforting, supportive message on Facebook.
  5. Talk to her on the phone about how much better off she is without him, and offer to make her some spaghetti with your new pasta maker.  You can really taste the difference!

E.  You’re at work and a very large insect scuttles across the carpet right by your office door.  You:

  1. Shriek and beg one of your male coworkers to kill it.  You can handle cantankerous clients and hostile takeover bids, but you’re terrified of bugs.
  2. Shriek and beg one of your male coworkers to kill it not because you’re terrified of bugs, but because you don’t want to get bug guts on your shoes by stomping on it.
  3. Stomp on it.
  4. Make fun of your female coworkers who shrieked, and then stomp on it.
  5. Catch the bug in an improvised container and drop it out the window.  You don’t want to push the eggs into the carpet where they can hatch.


Mostly 1’s:  Congratulations, you’re a Cosmo-approved girl!  I’ve never met one of you, but I’ve heard rumors of your existence for years.  If we ever meet, please tell me:  what is the point of a manicure if it chips within five minutes of leaving the salon?

Mostly 2’s:  You’re me.  Sorry about that.  You may or may not qualify as a girl.  Expensive jewelry makes you a little nervous, you love shoes but only buy them rarely, and you’ve taken to heart the saying that the female of the species is deadlier than the male.

Mostly 3’s:  Even I think you’re boring.  Wear a little pink from time to time, and would the occasional ruffle or velvet bow kill you?  You’re female!  Have fun with it!  And if you don’t want to wear pink, I don’t blame you at all.  I don’t like pink, either.  Or ruffles.  Or velvet bows.  But then, I may not actually be a girl.

Mostly 4’s:  You may be a dude.  That’s fine, if that’s what you’re going for.  It’s really less about the trappings and more about the fun of being a chick with other chicks and having fun being chicks together.  However, if your best girlfriend breaks up with her long-term boyfriend, you must go over there and comfort her.  Facebook isn’t going to cut it.

Mostly 5’s:  You’re my sister.  She’s a mom, which is a special subset of being a girl.  She’s smart, sexy, sensible, and scary all at the same time.  It’s a superpower you get when you give birth.  Or adopt.  Just go easy on the pasta makers.

So, are you a girl or not?  I think my official result is that I’m a girl, but with reservations.  I’m going to a remedial class on pearls and twinsets, but I think I’m going to blow it off for an evening showing of Prometheus.  What were your results?  If you’re a guy and you got the result that you’re my sister, I’m really not sure what to tell you, except that the post is already filled.  By a chick.  God, Gloria Steinem’s going to put a hit out on me!

Clothes are better than diaries

Wall Closet

Wall Closet (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I clean out my closet fairly often, since I don’t have much room for clothes and therefore can’t keep items that don’t fit or that I don’t wear.  I’ve been more or less the same size since high school, so I’ve got a few items that are pretty old, and it’s funny to trace my evolution through my fashion choices.

I still have the olive green corduroys with butterflies on the back pockets that a friend persuaded me to buy in college with money that really should have gone toward things like printer paper and food. I still fit in them because I habitually buy frivolous items with money that should have gone toward food.  They’re actually a little big on me now, but it’s okay because I’m much more likely these days to slouch around a park in the afternoon than to go to a party.  Just as well to have the extra room.  It’s hard to slouch effectively in tight pants.

Then there are the lace-up black ankle boots that I fell in love with fifteen years ago and had to have, and that I still wear because they have brilliant rubber soles with tread in addition to three-inch spike heels, and I’m convinced I could outrun attackers, defuse the bomb and save the boy when I’m wearing those boots.  I can wear them just about anywhere, in any setting.  I’ve gone hiking in them, and I’ve gone to church in them.  Other boots have come and gone, but the black ankle boots remain, and are a pretty good metaphor for who I am.


John Lennon

John Lennon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

But I think my favorite item of clothing is a T-shirt that I stole from my big sister, a T-shirt of John Lennon in NYC.  It’s as old as I am, thin as tissue, with holes in areas that necessitate wearing it with another shirt underneath if I’m going out in public.  It’s authentic vintage and definitely the coolest piece of clothing in my closet.  Cooler than the jacket that looks like leather but is actually animal-friendly and washable, cooler than the gold silk skirt that will always look classy no matter what’s in style, cooler than the classic white button-down blouse my mother got me when I landed my first grown-up job.  Of course, it’s that much cooler since I had to filch it from my sister’s drawer when she was still living at home!  Sorry, Big Sis.  I love you, but we’re talking John Lennon here.

These days I mostly buy suits and pantyhose, with the occasional pair of neutral-colored slacks and a tasteful selection of work-appropriate shirts.  But back in the day, I rocked torn jeans and a vintage tee.  Sometimes I still do, on the weekends.  Maybe I’ll drag Johnny out tomorrow, hit a few bars, and see if I get carded.  Like I said at the beginning of this post, I don’t have room to store clothes I don’t wear!

Why I would make a good spy

Spy vs. Spy

Image via Wikipedia

It’s always good to have a backup career, just in case, and I think that if I weren’t doing what I’m doing, I’d make a good spy.  For all the government types trolling the blogs, looking for hints or clues or chatter or whatever technical term you’re using these days, here’s why:

1.  I have my own trenchcoat.  From the extensive research I’ve done, by which I mean all the movies and television shows I’ve watched, this appears to be essential.  We’re in cost-cutting mode, of course, and I think it says something about my dedication that I’ve already invested in this crucial piece of equipment.  I’m always looking to help out with the federal deficit.

2.  I wear sunglasses all the time already, even indoors.  No one thinks twice about a blind girl wearing sunglasses; she’s supposed to.  It would be weird if she didn’t.  I suppose the sunglasses on spies are supposed to mask where their eyes are looking, or make sure the glare from the sun or the artificial lights doesn’t interfere with vision, so hey, I’ve already got that covered.  Man, it’s like I’m a spy already!

3.  My seeing eye dog could be trained for super-secret spy stuff.  I don’t actually have a seeing eye dog, but I’m eligible for one, and I could train mine to sniff out drugs and bombs and maybe to alert me to the presence of surveillance technology.  Dogs get trained to do all sorts of things these days.  Do you think it would be too much if I named the dog Q?  What about 99?

4.  I can run flat out in four inch stiletto heels.  I’ve learned this not only on my long string of first dates, but also from constantly running late while on the job.  I can run surprisingly quickly while in heels and carrying an armful of books, files, and papers.  Imagine what I could do in a sexy dress with a gun.  Go on, imagine it!

5.  I have super awesome hearing.  I can’t see a darn thing, but I can be sitting at a table halfway across a crowded cafe and eavesdrop on a conversation in lowered voices without anyone realizing I’m doing it.  I’ve already put this to the test in a few casual situations, with the result that I’ve learned that it’s honestly best not to know most of the time.  But hey, for the good of the country, I’m willing to suffer through.

I’d make the most awesome spy.  Federal agencies, you are On Notice.  I expect the men in black to show up any day now, offer in hand.  Of course, since I will have heard them coming, I’ll sneak up behind them in my trenchcoat and sunglasses, with my superdog and my four inch heels, and murmur, “Looking for someone?”  At which point they will jump five feet in the air, panic, and shoot me immediately.  Oh, well.  Maybe sneaking up on secret agents isn’t the best idea.  I guess I’ll just open the door.

LBG’s rules to live by

Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Image via Wikipedia

I being the little blind girl am sometimes known as LBG.  Occasionally, I get mixed up with LJG, or Leroy Jethro Gibbs, a character on NCIS.  Apparently, Gibbs has about sixty rules for living that he makes his subordinates follow.  Well, I’ve got some rules, too, that have served me well throughout my life.  This would be more impressive if I were about twice as old.  However, even a young’n like me can find herself in some sticky situations, and here’s my advice on how to deal with them:

1.  Never wear shoes you can’t run in.  This may seem only to apply to girls, but guys, check the soles of your shoes.  Even when you’re at a fancy black-tie event, you may find yourself needing to run away from amorous cougars, people you owe money to, or the occasional enemy assault.  Hey, I can’t be the only one that happens to!  My advice:  take a quick sprint on a hardwood floor before you go out for the evening.  If you can’t outrun an armed attacker, change your shoes.  Corollary to this, ladies (and some guys):  learn how to climb out of a second story window in heels.

2.  Never turn down free food.  This one stood me in good stead while I was in school, but the habit has stuck, and let me tell you, free food is always something to accept.  If it’s something that you can’t identify and you feel awkward about refusing, just don’t look too closely and pretend it’s tofu, which pretty much always looks weird.  Under no circumstances ask what it was you just ate.  Trust me on this.

3.  Don’t bother with the Do Not Call registry.  It used to help, but there are a million ways around it these days.  Instead of cutting off the telemarketers, keep them on the phone.  They have quotas to make.  Ask them to explain their products, compare their free gifts to other companies’ free gifts, quiz them on fees and surcharges.  When all else fails, correct their grammar.  Word gets around; they’ll stop calling.

4.  Sometimes life forces you to the edge of a cliff.  When this happens, you can either look at the ground, put your tail between your legs and go backwards, or you can jump off the cliff.  Always, always, always jump off the cliff.  You can figure out the parachute on the way down.  Just jump.  You might go splat, but you might learn to fly.

5.  Don’t live by anyone else’s rules but your own.

Don’t get me wrong; I like Gibbs, and I like his rules, especially the one about not getting between a Marine and his coffee.  I know that one from experience.  I might also say, don’t get between a new parent and his or her coffee.  And especially don’t get between a Marine who just became a parent and his coffee.  But these are my rules, and I offer them to you to adopt or ignore as you please.  I highly recommend the telemarketer one, though.  That’s free entertainment, and fun for the whole family.

Mad libs and whistling marmosets

P writing blue

Image via Wikipedia

For your reading pleasure and, I hope, your entertainment, I have composed a mad lib about the adventures of the little blind girl.  Go down the list below, pick your words–before you read the mad lib!–then fill in the blanks and see what you get:

1.  noun, singular.  2.  verb, past tense.  3.  noun, singular.  4.  noun; singular or plural.  5.  adjective  6. noun, plural. 7.  question  8. statement.  9. noun, plural.  10.  verb, infinitive 11. adverb. 12.  insult. 13. living creature 14. verb, present tense.

The little blind girl looked up and squinted at the ___________ (noun, singular).  She shook her head, sighed, and _____________ (verb, past tense), something she hadn’t done in way too long.  Once the ____________ (noun, singular) wore off, she went to the store across the street toward the ___________ (noun; singular or plural) and bought one of the ____________ (adjective) _____________ (noun, plural), a purchase she would come to regret.

The clerk smiled at the little blind girl and said, “_____________ (question)?”  The little blind girl, a little puzzled, replied “_______________ (statement).”  The clerk gave the little blind girl her change and waved goodbye.

On the way back across the street, the little blind girl noticed a shop selling ___________ (noun, plural) she had never noticed before, and decided to ____________ (verb, infinitive) her way inside.  But as soon as she stepped in the store, the shopkeeper looked ___________ (adverb) at her and said, “_____________________ (insult)!”  The little blind girl left in a huff.

Back in her apartment, the little blind girl smiled wistfully at her ____________ (living creature) and said, “At least you don’t _________ (verb, present tense)!”

Here’s what I got:

The little blind girl looked up and squinted at the pilgrim hat.  She shook her head, sighed, and did the electric slide, something she hadn’t done in way too long.  Once the pizza wore off, she went to the store across the street toward the shoes and bought one of the stupefying Hawaiian shirts, a purchase she would come to regret.

The clerk smiled at the little blind girl and said, “Where will you be when the Rapture comes?”  The little blind girl, a little puzzled, replied “I’ve never been able to play the tuba.”  The clerk gave the little blind girl her change and waved goodbye.

On the way back across the street, the little blind girl noticed a shop selling tutus that she had never noticed before, and decided to mime her way inside.  But as soon as she stepped in the door, the shopkeeper looked saltily at her and said, “You have the most horrifying socks I’ve ever seen!”  The little blind girl left in a huff.

Back in her apartment, the little blind girl smiled wistfully at her marmoset and said, “At least you don’t whistle!”

Really, I think it was worth it for the last sentence alone!  Feel free to share your versions.  And, for the record, I think my socks are awesome.

Marmoset: CC Image by Tony Hisgett via Flickr

The results of fashion hubris

Where'd I Leave My Sunglasses

CC Image courtesy of Thomas Hawk on Flickr

This is what happens when blind girls try to be cool:

I recently went on a second date with a guy, my first second date in quite a while.  He’s tall, and I picture him as dark and handsome, and he has a great voice, so all is well thus far.  He asked where I wanted to go, and I said “Anywhere where I can wear flats,” so he took me to a meditation seminar.  Promisinger and promisinger.  Then, after the meditation seminar, we went out for extremely unhealthy food and mocked the seminar presenter mercilessly.  Could it get any better?  Yes, yes it could.

He dropped me off–at my door, after leading me up the steps because he knows I’m legally blind (I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I walk those steps every day of my life and could walk them if I were completely blind).  It wasn’t until then, at the end of the date, that I realized that I was actually wearing two different kinds of shoes!  And I’d been going on and on about what a relief it was to wear flats!  All afternoon!  I tempted the wrath of the fashion gods with my hubristic desire for comfort, and this was the result.

I exclaimed in dismay.  He, bless him, laughed and said…well, on second thought, I’m not going to tell you what he said.  Or what he did, because this isn’t that kind of blog.  But it made up for the blind equivalent of realizing I had spinach on my teeth all evening.  And there will be a third date because, let me tell you, he’s looking very good to me right now.

I like my posts like I like my men, short and funny

Because that last post was a bummer and I like to leave you guys with a laugh:

Little blind girl walks into a bar, goes up to place her drink order, has the following exchange:

Random guy:  Nice shoes.  Wanna f*ck?

Little blind girl:  Um, no thanks.

(turns around, walks to friends’ table)

Friend:  Man, that guy was really cute!

Little blind girl:  That explains a lot.