Today I had to take this personality test for class. I make a lot of jokes about dropping out of high school and community college, but I went back to school a couple of years ago, and I am close to graduating. I started college in 1987, and I will get a bachelor’s degree in creative writing with a minor in psychology in early 2018. I am not a math major, but I believe that’s 31 years. I have already finished all of my writing classes, so it’s nothing but psychology courses from here on out. This semester I am studying personality, so it’s nice to know that I may learn how to have one in the near future.

You can take the test here.

According to the test, the results of which are of questionable validity, I am open-minded. I scored a 99, so I’ve got to assume I lost a point because there is something I am being unreasonable about yet won’t budge on. According to my results, high scorers tend to be original, creative, curious, and complex. Okay, fair enough. I did once push the button on a garage door opener just to see what would happen, crushing my father’s brand-new Monte Carlo in the process. It was so cool. It was white with a red vinyl top and a leather interior. And a fucked-up roof.

I scored a 72 for conscientiousness because I am well-organized and disciplined. That’s fair enough. You’d have to be to endure the hell that is my schedule. I only scored 34 for agreeableness. According to my results, I am good-natured, sympathetic, and forgiving, which I guess I’d agree with, but I also find it easy to express irritation with others. Well maybe I wouldn’t have to if they weren’t such assholes. Kidding! Kidding. Really, I swear. I also got a 76 for negative emotionality because I am nervous and I worry. I worry so much that I thought you’d think I was calling you an asshole and take it personally.

I scored 73 in extraversion, which I do and do not agree with. In general, I am pretty introverted, and I try to spend as much time as possible alone. Not easy when you have kids and dogs. My great-grandmother reached a point in her life where she simply decided she didn’t want to leave the house anymore, so she didn’t. Instead she mostly stayed in the kitchen, where she put mayonnaise on peas and called it salad, and in the yard, where she’d lined the winding paths with vintage pottery that had broken. I have only just moved into my house, and already I am planning where the paths are going to go, how they will wind, what they will wind around, and which of my dishes and tiny statues will end up lying in pieces along the paths. I want to do what my great-grandmother did, but with normal salad.

I socialize very successfully when I am forced to, and I am friendly and talkative with people I like, but I only became sociable while I was working as a stripper. Being naked in front of crowds forces you to become an extrovert. Can you imagine how uncomfortable it would be to be unable to break out of your introvert’s shell while you were naked on stage? At least you don’t really have to worry about eye contact.