Basically, I'm the white Oprah Winfrey

Let me preface this blog post by stating clearly that I will not be giving you a car, or a house, or a book club, or an expsenive gift bag from the Oscars...although I would totally love to be able to run around shouting:

"YOU GET A CAR! YOU GET A CAR! YOU GET A CAR!" and laugh manically.

While on vacation I stayed with my friend who is a professional Myers Briggs Test Giver for a living...

Ok, maybe she does more than that, but let's just say a very small part of her job is giving people bubble tests and then calculating how they communicate and what their main personality traits are. I find this fascinating because I do not understand myself at all so I jumped at the chance to have her tell me.

She administered the test to me while I was drinking beer, but I'd only had 2 so I doubt it effected the outcome very much as I have a very high beer tolerance. That too, has been tested. Apparently I was thinking too much about my answers, so after a quick correction to just "Go with my gut" I began filling in bubble dots like it was my job.

She took out her handy dandy scorecard and rated me while I slammed back another beer stood around nervously. She then handed me my results, I was an E.N.F.J. I know what you're thinking and it's likely the exact same thing I thought when given this discovery of a lifetime.

What the fuck does that mean?

She pulled up some stuff for me to read and even showed me a badass Powerpoint presentation with flying dragons and ninjas (ok, so I may be exaggerating but it was very informative) but to be honest, at this point I was up to 4 beers and nothing really sunk in. BUT, since I got home, I've began to research what being an E.N.F.J. means. According to Truity.com this is a quick breakdown:

Do you see that? I am a fucking humanitarian. It says so. Right there. In print.

It also says, that we are very rare, accounting for only 3% of the population. I'm an extrovert but can get easily exhausted if I don't stop to take time for myself. I enjoy close, supportive connections with others (and my bras, although this doesn't say that it's very true) and I tend to be a bit of an empath and hurt when others close to me are hurting. I am sensitive to feedback positive and negative (stroke my ego a little, you'll see) and I strive to leave the world slightly better than I found it. I am also a sucker for a to-do list.

Everything I've read has been pretty spot-on. I find it interesting that it's made me more aware during my interactions with others because I've never really given a shit before.

Famous ENFJs include Oprah Winfrey, Pope John Paul II, Margaret Mead, Ralph Nader, Abraham Maslow, Dr. Phil McGraw, and Martin Luther King, Jr.

So, basically, based upon my cheery general demeanor, predisposition to stress eat and love of entertaining I conclude that I am the white, broke Oprah Winfrey.

Interested in what your Personality Type is? You can take the test at Truity.com: Free Personality Test. However, it will not be nearly as awesome as taking the bubble dot test at my friend Heather's house in her kitchen while drinking beer.

Don't mind me, that's just how my brain works...

My brain doesn't work like most brains.

For example, I'll wonder what giraffes eat, so I Google it. Then I see, "What do giraffes symbolize?" and I click there instead because surely that is infinitely more interesting than what they eat. Apparently, they symbolize the ability to see

into the future. Then I begin to think, is the fact that I'm curious about giraffes and what they eat mean that I can see in the future? If so, does that mean I will see how I die, or how my friends are going to die? I can't handle that. I don't want to know. Why do I have to know that?

This is how my brain works.

It effects my decision making ability because I'm always thinking 12 different implausible hypotheticals that might happen and I need time to weigh all of them before I can decide the best course of action.

Because of this in a moment of crisis, I am not the right person to go to. You should see what happens when my gas light comes on in my car. I start breathing heavy, and calculating the miles it would take to walk to the gas station, and then I realize I don't have a gas can and I'll have to buy one and what if they don't have one. Bam, mini panic attack. I can't breathe right, my heart is pounding, I start to get really hot, it's awful. Some friends were in the car with me recently when this happened, I explained to them that this is how my brain functions all of the time. They are amazed I make it out of the house with clothes on each day.

As I'm writing this, I'm thinking of the many stories I could tell you about the times my brain has gotten me into trouble this way. There was the time I accidentally set my Mom on fire while we were ear wicking (Google it) and couldn't figure out what was the most effective way to put the fire out so I stood there just saying "Oh, um, Oh, uh...". Until my sister realized what was happening and yelled at me to pour the glass of water I had in my hand on the fire that had slowly begun it's crawl from my Mom's slipper to her pants leg.

Then there was the time my friend went into a porta-potty toward the end of a night out and all of a sudden some guys rolled the porta-potty away, with her in it, but there was a cop eyeballing me because I was holding a cup of beer and I was afraid I would get arrested if I ran after her, so I didn't. I stood there and held my beer, yelling hopefully loud enough for the guys to hear me but not loud enough that the cop would think I was too drunk and arrest me. Because they would arrest me and I would go to jail. I didn't know how to make a shiv at that point in my life, so I was worried about the outcome.

I call these my "Thought Trains" and occasionally I change the words to "Love Train" and sing about them, but only when I'm alone. My most recent Thought Train has been the scariest of all for me. I'm currently separated, soon to be divorced and I'm 33. I want a child (just 1, I'm not sure I could handle 2 with all this going on inside my head everyday) very badly. So I think about doing it on my own, do I go the old fashioned way or adopt? I formulate plans in my head for both, I then wonder if I can buy a baby on Craigslist. Before I can begin the research, I think about how hard raising a kid on my own would be, I don't make a lot of money and kids are freakishly expensive. I really like to sleep too, and they are up all night having tiny baby parties.

I'd have to work 2 jobs to afford diapers, then I'd have to work a 3rd job to afford the childcare I'd need for the other 2 jobs. Then I wouldn't have time to dedicate to teaching them to be an awesome human because I don't want to have a brat for a child. And if my kid is uncool or likes Justin Beiber, I'm just not sure how I would handle that disappointment as a parent.

Basically, inside my head there is a whole lot of crazy. I live on the ledge and I'm constantly pulling myself off of it. Or at least that's what it feels like sometimes. I do my best to keep it in check but occasionally it slips up and 15 minutes of time can just pass by in a blur. If you are ever talking to me and I space out, I'm probably hearing everything you are saying, I'm just thinking about the hypotheticals. One day when I know how to save your unborn pony from a zombie attack at 20,000 feet, because I had already thought of that, you'll thank me for it. Well, as long as I have thought of that hypothetical.

What is this?

"I miss blogging."

"Well, blog."

"But I don't know where to start, it's been too long and I don't know what I want to blog about!"

"Blog about everything?"

"Blog about everything?"

"That is what I said."

"Oh. Like, I can blog about how I tripped over the lawnmower, thought I was paralyzed and was going to die alone in my yard because no one would know I was hurt before I realized I wasn't paralyzed and my phone was in my pocket?"

"Yes, blog about that."

"What about this quiche recipe I think I may have invented yesterday using a pizza recipe off a box of Bisquick that may have expired?"

"That too."

"What about the time I drank too much wine and I..."

"Which time?"

"Shut up."

"Yes, all those times too."

"Hmm...and people might want to read it?"

"How the hell should I know? I'm just your reflection in the mirror. I'm only telling you what you want to hear because I am you."

"Wow, that's deep."

"I know, I'm a genius, you look incredible by the way."

"Aww, thanks."

"Anytime."

Welcome to Misadventures and Balderdash. It's likely to be a bumpy ride so hold onto your girdles and guard your loins, my filter doesn't exist.