Emily and 67

I took two BuzzFeed Quizzes last night. You know the sort that pop up on your feed, such titles as "What Body Part Should You Tattoo?" or "How Well Do You Remember 'The Goonies'?" or "Are You More Dude Or More Bro?".

I ignore about 99% of them. I have learned that I'm sufficiently out of the mainstream of popular culture so that my answer to the questions posed is often "None of the above/Not Applicable". There is no box to click for me. I take it as negative feedback. I'm not cool. I'll accept that. I know where I'm not wanted.

Those I do take are a secret pleasure. I rarely share my results to pass on the quiz to my feed. Some things are best kept behind your closed door, only the glowing screen knows. Well, yes, I suppose that some advertiser is keeping track of it all in a mound of metadata.

The first quiz was "Which Gilmore Girl Are You Actually?". It was in 2011 when I was left in a mostly empty house in Texas. After the movers had taken most of our household, I stayed behind to help organize the sale of what was left and to arrange for the renters to move in. I checked out the DVD of season one of The Gilmore Girls from the library. It was great fun and helped get me by the long nights. I made some effort to find the later seasons, but it wasn't until Netflix acquired the rights in the last year that I was able to follow up on my girls. I haven't finished it. As is the case with many TV shows, the last couple of seasons don't live up to the original experience. But I like to think of the characters still romping through Stars Hollow, solving life's mysteries.

So, "Emily"? I got Emily, the well-coiffed mother more interested in her DAR meetings and charity fundraisers than in supporting her pregnant teenager. It doesn't exactly seem to describe my life right now.

And then, to add insult to injury, in answer to "Can We Guess Your Age By How You Use Technology?", I got 67! They didn't ask me if I blog. That would have lowered it, right?

So there you have it, I'm Emily and 67. Somebody is watching. There this ad that keeps popping up on different sites. I can't look at it. The first glance was too much. It is something about the incision lines necessary to return my tummy and underarms to their youthful glory.