I'm Sorry, But "Cement" Is Not a Color I lovelovelove paper. And pens. And pencils. I'm powerless over fresh tablets and spiffy notebooks and crisp leads and razor-tipped felt pens. Yum.
I have my usual stores where I get my office-supply fix. If I'm really jonesing I can get by with a visit to Staples for bulk binging. I'm not proud of it, but when you need it you need it, yes? Then there are the really special stores, where I can spend hours poking through all the colored pencils and letterpress notes and little boxes to hold little clips and...well, you get the picture.
So the other day I was in one of these stores - one of the special ones - and I came across this piece of paper called a colorscope. It's beautiful - with a big grid of colors and a little description inside each one. The idea is that you stand back from the paper and pick your favorite color, then step closer and read what that color selection says about you.
So basically I get to indulge my paper passion and learn more about me?
I'm in.
But wait.
What is up with these descriptions?
Here's what the colorscope says about you if chocolate is your favorite color:
You are down to earth, comfortable with who you are and have a great ability to find joy in life. You don't take things personally, you rebound from failure, and you go for what you want.
Okay, do you know anyone who fits this description? Because I don't. And if I did, it would be difficult for me to form a true friendship with them since I'd be spending so much time wishing they would get gonorrhea.
A quick scan of the other boxes revealed that they, too, were peppered with annoying phrases like "easy to love," "inexhaustible energy" and "incredibly skilled at innovation."
What is that crap?
And where are they keeping this super-human race of color-coded kiss-ups designed to make the rest of us look like slouches?
I do not need this.
Therefore, I am blowing the lid off the colorscope conspiracy. Presenting:
The Crap-Free Guide to Favorite Colors and Their Meanings
You have a disturbing predilection for jumpsuits, made doubly so by the fact that you have a really long torso [ahem]. Your coworkers are pretty sure you've had work done, but can't figure out where, exactly. Your ideal mode of transportation is a Renault Le Car in electric green. Favorite Olympic sport: curling. Favorite animal: ocelot.
If given the choice, you would live in Des Moines. On the weekends, you often can be found in your garage, playing with your arc-welder. You have not yet broken it to your children that you lost their college money in offshore Internet gambling. You are known by all as a sympathetic listener - as long as the subject of roller disco does not come up. Favorite snooty art word: pointillism.
People admire you for your moist, healthy cuticles. Due to an FBI filing error, you have mistakenly been under surveillance since 1977. You would be a fantastic knitter, if only you'd give it a try. The guy with the mutton-chop sideburns and Sansabelt slacks who was always on your sofa when you were growing up is not really your dad. Secret fear: that the guy on the sofa is not really your dad.
When you hit 50, you will suddenly experience the uncontrollable urge to seal everything in your house with custom-fitted plastic covers. You like the idea of making the world a better place, but what's the payoff for you, really? If you are a man, your preferred footwear is the zip-up, tasseled bootie. If you are a woman: same thing. Two words: mood swings.
Seriously, enough with the make-up - you look like you're in the Kabuki theatre. You like to hide your sensitive side, to the point that children and animals both growl at you on the street. Yet people love to be around you because of your okra-cooking skills. You have a secret dream to be a podiatrist. Or a foot-fetishist. Depends on which pays better.
Everything you own is argyle. You once accidentally ate a sea anemone at the beach. Everyone admires your housekeeping, but then they've never opened the third door in the hallway, have they? You believe the glass is half full, but you also believe it has a lipstick smudge on it. It's time to learn to swim. I can't tell you why right now, but trust me: it's time. Secret fear: Disneyland.
You are overly proud of your tractor and your neighbors despise you for it. Don't worry, everyone else gets Ava and Zsa Zsa confused, too. Your are unlucky at love and even unluckier at cards. However, you kick ass at the dog track. Favorite song: "Turkey in the Straw." Favorite gemstone: CZ. It's all going to end in Vegas in the penthouse suite of Bob Stupak's Stratosphere, but it'll be pretty fun up until then.
In the Meantime...
You have a disturbing predilection for jumpsuits, made doubly so by the fact that you have a really long torso [ahem]. Your coworkers are pretty sure you've had work done, but can't figure out where, exactly. Your ideal mode of transportation is a Renault Le Car in electric green. Favorite Olympic sport: curling. Favorite animal: ocelot.
If given the choice, you would live in Des Moines. On the weekends, you often can be found in your garage, playing with your arc-welder. You have not yet broken it to your children that you lost their college money in offshore Internet gambling. You are known by all as a sympathetic listener - as long as the subject of roller disco does not come up. Favorite snooty art word: pointillism.
People admire you for your moist, healthy cuticles. Due to an FBI filing error, you have mistakenly been under surveillance since 1977. You would be a fantastic knitter, if only you'd give it a try. The guy with the mutton-chop sideburns and Sansabelt slacks who was always on your sofa when you were growing up is not really your dad. Secret fear: that the guy on the sofa is not really your dad.
When you hit 50, you will suddenly experience the uncontrollable urge to seal everything in your house with custom-fitted plastic covers. You like the idea of making the world a better place, but what's the payoff for you, really? If you are a man, your preferred footwear is the zip-up, tasseled bootie. If you are a woman: same thing. Two words: mood swings.
Seriously, enough with the make-up - you look like you're in the Kabuki theatre. You like to hide your sensitive side, to the point that children and animals both growl at you on the street. Yet people love to be around you because of your okra-cooking skills. You have a secret dream to be a podiatrist. Or a foot-fetishist. Depends on which pays better.
Everything you own is argyle. You once accidentally ate a sea anemone at the beach. Everyone admires your housekeeping, but then they've never opened the third door in the hallway, have they? You believe the glass is half full, but you also believe it has a lipstick smudge on it. It's time to learn to swim. I can't tell you why right now, but trust me: it's time. Secret fear: Disneyland.
You are overly proud of your tractor and your neighbors despise you for it. Don't worry, everyone else gets Ava and Zsa Zsa confused, too. Your are unlucky at love and even unluckier at cards. However, you kick ass at the dog track. Favorite song: "Turkey in the Straw." Favorite gemstone: CZ. It's all going to end in Vegas in the penthouse suite of Bob Stupak's Stratosphere, but it'll be pretty fun up until then.
In the Meantime......it's not too late to nominate your favorite blogs in all categories for the 2009 Bloggie Awards. Deadline for nominations is January 12 at 10:00 pm Eastern.
...thanks to Janna for the Lemon Drop Martini Award!
...and thanks to K at Interstitial Life for the A Hoy Award for Best Comedic Performance!
