(no subject)
Normal Self-love
67% mind-love and 44% body-love!
That's right! You are normal! Within a few percentage points, I've determined that you have neither an excessive love nor excessive dislike of yourself; you are just plain fine with your body and mind.
That's great! It's impossible to complain about someone like you.
The smiley face in the below graph indicates where you lie, in a 2-D measure of self-love. I'm continually adjusting the cutoffs. What this means: a "normal" says you really are around the average, and a "cocky" says you really are cockier than most other people. Based on some real-world testing, I have some final advice:
- don't date someone if your squares are not sharing an edge or corner.
- friendships more than 2 squares away probably aren't healthy.
Note that neither of these restrictions apply to you.
My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
You scored higher than 56% on mind
You scored higher than 25% on body
Link: The How Much Do You Love Yourself Test written by chicken_pot_pie on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the 32-Type Dating Test
Well, I've been planning to write something on the weekend, for the past two weekends. Goodbye plans to write in detail the memorable events of said days.
First off: First weekend in October, I was finally in that zombie movie I was going goinks over earlier this year. No big parts, just an extra, but me being the zombie movie fanatic that I am, I overanalyzed my part to the point that I could have written an entire screenplay based on all 5 of my possible seconds of screentime.
In your typical GOOD zombie movie (George Romero) your humans are too busy fighting with each other generally to notice that the apocalypse is upon them, and the infighting between them is counterproductive to the point of staying alive, which should be your ultimate goal. When people are supposed to be helping each other out the most, that is when they are struggling for petty concepts such as power and control. It's sad. And I have no doubt that's what it will be like once the end of the world is upon us. Just look at the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina here in the states. I'm not sure how many of you got to hear the lesser-known news, as it mostly circulated in CJ circles (although I wouldn't be surprised if you had), but there was this one hospital full of survivors, and SOMEONE (I don't know who, but I doubt it's our head-stuck-in-their-asses-government) was trying to evacuate them to a place where they could be treated better.
Wouldn't you know it? Some asshole with a sniper rifle sets himself up opposite the hospital and starts picking off people and shooting at the rescue helicopters, making relief impossible. JUST AS YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE HELPING YOUR FELLOW MAN, MAN HAS DECIDED TO FUCK EVERYTHING UP. Go humanity. *places head in hands*
But anyway, my part in the movie was small. I was armed with this wicked looking dagger about a foot and a half in length, curvy like a hot woman's sexy body snake and serrated on one side. My part was to try to help a family who had just been attacked by zombies (it was written that we were too late), placing my own character's ass in danger so we could help complete strangers.
FUCK YES.
Even in a hypothetical, completely random situation where I was originally cast to be a zombie, I get changed at the last minute to the exact type of person I'd want to be in that sort of situation. Completely by chance, or not. Destiny. Fate. God loving me. I dunno, but I get to do exactly what I'd want anybody in that situation to do: be altruistic, because only through cooperation will mankind save itself.
Anyway, I got all messy and shit, face blood and random zombie makeup dotting my clothing and body. It was fun, though. Truth be told, the movie looks like it's gonna suck, but hey, it's only a local thing, and I don't get seen very much anyway, so I won't be TOO associated with it if it turns out as bad as I anticipate (I judge this based on the fact that he gave some minor people minor speaking parts, and directed them to give some of the most godawful delivery I have ever heard on a professional / semi-pro / amateur level.)
Weekend after that we had a gig at the University's outdoor stage. Tommy recently got a job coaching for wrestling back at my old high school and one of the stipulations of his continued employment was that he had to get his hair significantly cut. Having seen Alice Cooper on the 10th of last month, we are both still very inspired and moved by his shock-rock performance, not to mention he played all the classics I never expected him to. Anyway, we decide to get Tommy's hair cut in dramatic fashion, so when we start playing "I'm Eighteen" by Alice, we dedicate it to one of our megafans in the audience, who turned 18 that same day. What people DIDN'T notice was Tommy pulling his hair into a tight ponytail. After the dedication and midway through the song, I take a look at Tommy and begin laughing. I will now and forevermore have the longest hair in the Council, until I join the LCPD and get it chopped off, that is.
While we're ending the song, our friends Dan, Mantissa, Carlos, and Kristy jump up in spooky executioner and dominatrix costumes and drag Tommy off the drumkit. Dan in an opaque hood led the crowd in deciding what they did to him, as the other three held him back and "chained" him down (styrofoam chain). Then, as Tommy kicks and screams at the top of his lungs, the rest of the band being joined by our friend Mathias on the drums, plays Alice Cooper's most creepy tune, "I Love the Dead," the creepy quartet dramatically execute Tommy... 's hair.
The crowd was SCREAMING. Nobody knew it was going on, and we got it all on video. Once I get the video onto the computer, I'll host it somewhere for general viewing pleasure. But Tommy's hair is all short now. It's incredible to hair-whip him and have no resistance. *evil laugh*
And today, we woke up at 9 to assist Engineering department with their homecoming float so that they'll give NMSU guitar club $200 for whatever we choose. Let me just say that if I hear the words "home," "coming," "float," "paper," "papier," or "mache" any time within the next week I swear I'm gonna punch the next person I see. Oh, and apparently our backyard, after 20 years of relative emptiness of wild animals, is now suddenly after 20-odd years a home to a plethora of baby rattlesnakes. EFF. YOU. SEE. KAY. And Tommy crashed the dirtbike and locked up the rear wheel. More on that later.
It is now 4:43 in the morning, and I must be signing off.