is this: I spend way too much time on the computer, so I run across cool sites like this one.
http://www.flashpuzzlezone.com/jigsaw/people/sports/
Check out the warp feature on the racer pix, I mutated Gordo into a gnome, poor chap, I hope his bride doesn't mind too awfully much.
Hmm.....it's 9 p.m., I want to be out walking but it's raining and I'm not waterproof. Be cool if we had oil spigots like ducks do-we could smear ourselves in grease so water would bead up or roll off of us like a Rain-Ex'd windshield, the grease would also insulate us from cold just as the Indians use to slather on bear grease in the winter to stay warm. Yes, they really did, and I'll wager time spent in the wigwam near the heat of a blazing fire would curl the nose hair of lesser individuals, especially when winter chose to drag on for a few extra weeks. Having built in oil spouts would make the chill of winter more tolerable, however, those long winter nights would most likely be spent scrubbing the resulting tub scum and double washing the grease spots off the laundry rather than curled up next to the fireplace sipping hot chocolate (with
real marshmallows, big ones if they will fit in the cup, not those little dust specks that come premixed in some hot cocoa mixes) with our sweeties.
Ok, as of this writing I have no sweetie, though fetching one is on my to do list. There's this handsome chap who's caught my eye of late, they call him Kid Rock. Mysterious, no? Just for the record, the 'real' Kid Rock is terribly unattractive to me, there is no physical resemblance between the two or this vast stretch of blog sideroad would have been a dead end. They call 'my' guy Kid Rock because he usually dates drop-dead-gorgeous women. Where he unearths them in this god forsaken wench wasteland is anyones guess, as we are a homely lot here on the frontier, sturdy as Russian field hands. He and I have covertly stared at each other from across a crowded room on two different evenings. Alas, my vanity is in cahoots with what passes in my world as distance eyesight which makes it difficult to know if he is as hot as I seem to think he is, as I stubbornly refuse to wear glasses and can't find my carloads of disposable contact lenses misplaced in my move from Daytona. My sister assures me he is 'fricken HOT', though she is a compulsive liar so expecting her to utter anything remotely resembling the truth is sheer lunacy. I did get within a few inches of Mr. Rock once; we were playing pool on separate tables, but I forgot to pay attention so missed checking him out when he said something to me. I was concentrating on a shot and he was in my way, so I was distracted! Quit shaking your head at my blunder, and yes, I know you mentally called me a dumbass, I'm psychic you know, and distinctly heard you thinking it. I'm told he has a girlfriend, so there. I also heard he is carrying on an affair with a married woman, although I heard it from my sister who's not the greatest source of truth, as I've just told you, and sad to say, when she isn't lying she mucks up insignificant little things like who did what, or sequences of events, hurling them about with little regard for where they land or who trips over them, a superb reason not to believe gossip. Instead of stomping about in isolated mountain forests, she should be churning out fiction, capitalizing on her mischief and overdrawn memory banks.
No, I am NOT shy, not at all. That is NOT why I looked away when Kid Rock talked to me, why are you badgering me? No, that isn't it at all. It IS NOT! Ok, it is. I'm shy. Curses. How did you manage to drag that out of me, anyway? I'll have to be careful around you, you're a wily one, I can see that now.
Ahhh, daaaamn it all, I'm restless and bored, such a horrid place to be-lucky for me I have the ability to sometimes entertain myself with very little. Let's see here...oh, did I tell you I'm into psychology? Yes, I am sure I did somewhere here, you just didn't pay attention. For instance, I am mighty fond of the Keirsey book, "Please Understand Me II". Mr. Keirsey's first book on the subject, "Please Understand Me" was splendid of course but a sickly little ghost of his sequel. Mr. Keirsey one day apparently decided to quit fooling around and apply himself so he burst forth with a second edition where he finally gave it up, sharing the real meat and potatoes of personalities he'd been hoarding for himself all those years. That, or he is a slacker like me (awwww, that is SO CUTE of him!) and in an apparent fervor of condensed inspiration whipped up some profound insights into human nature.
Here, this is a site where you can do a little questionnaire to see what sort you are.
PLEASE READ THE INSTRUCTIONS BEFORE TAKING THE TEST. They are brief but important; the test is pitifully simple to do so those of you with test anxiety, relax, pretend you get a million dollars when you are finished and see what gusto can be attained by imaginary money, which is a lesson in itself.
http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=16567335035599898597
Yes, yes, you already know who you are, I fully realize this, but it's so fun to show you that you aren't as individualized as you like to think, there are only 4 main types, Artisans, Guardians, Idealists and Rationals. Run along and play now... when you get done come back here and report to me what your type is, and if you think it is correct...why are you still here? I know you won't be able to resist the urge to peek at the type descriptions you can find by pecking at the keyboard and entering your 4 letter character into a search engine. I'm an ESTP, with brief interludes into the darker side of ISTP, but mainly I'm an E/I-STP, which if you read the descriptions explains a lot. You would see that I really AM quite sane, and that there are truckloads of others
just like me roaming freely about the streets. Try to have a sound night's sleep with
that information, will you. What
are you still doing here? Scurry off now and take the damn test.
Ah, you've returned, the conquering hero. Interesting, wasn't it. I have the Keirsey book "Please Understand Me II" where he goes into great detail on each type, well worth the $15 I paid for it, even if the title is really wussy, what with that pleading undertone, but there you are. As with Betty McDonald's book "The Egg and I"-both works of genius once you pull back the whimpering coverlets, the titles of each are profound miscarriages of great literature.
On the brighter side of things, I would love to find out what each NASCAR driver's type is. If Keirsey is correct, many racer sorts are ESTP/ISTP's like myself. I always wanted to be a jet pilot or race car driver (or a mercenary, but that is a subject for another day), so either I'm stark raving mad or Keirsey is spot on (for the record I prefer the latter). It would be fun to get the personality breakdown for all drivers, as I'd like to compare success/skill/patience/forethought/aggression and such things per their records along with what that type is supposed to be acting like. Hurl a chartful (I just invented that word by the way) of Clance's Neptune, Jupiter, Mars and other assorted planetary monoliths on that seething heap and things would be quite entertaining! My guess is the majority of drivers are Guardian/Artisan, not just because they comprise roughly 80% of the population. Guardians are security minded so they will be the safe drivers, cautious and steady, making it to the checkered flag in whichever place, the turtles of life. The Artisans are the impulsive risk takers, the fly by the seat of their pants sorts, pushing skill and equipment to the max, who are in a hurry to get where they are going, the hares of this world. When they make it to the finish line, they are often ahead of the pack, though usually beat up and battered from their close shaves and aggressive frolic, like a tangled ball of playful puppies.
Lead, follow or get out of the way was my favorite saying since the first time I heard it, I am an Artisan through and through.
