quizzes – SIMCHA FISHER

Has the pandemic made you entirely too awesome? A quiz

Here we are, just about on the other side of the pandemic. Yes we are. Quiet, I said we are and I can’t hear anything else right now or I’m going to go completely out of my gourd.

Here we are, as I say, just about on the other side of the pandemic, and almost since day 1 of the lockdowns and restrictions, we’ve been hearing about people turning into slugs who no longer know how to carry on a conversation, drive a car, or put on pants. So many publications are focusing on people who’ve let their lives slither southward down the drain like an unguarded bowl of tapioca. But here at The Catholic Weekly, we do things a little differently. Here, we turn our gimlet eye on the real villains of the pandemic. The people who used their time too well.

I threw together a little quiz to help you assess whether you’ve officially gone too far and have allowed the global pandemic to make you entirely too awesome to live.

Read the rest of my latest for The Catholic Weekly.

Image via DepositPhotos

Ready for school? Take this quiz and see.

The department stores have been ready since the middle of May. The clothing catalogues have been ready since early June. The teachers have been ready for close to 72 hours now. How about you, mom? Are you ready for BACK-TO-SCHOOL?

Here’s a quick quiz to find out ~~how much gin to buy~~:

***

Clothing! Are you ready?

(a) Your school doesn’t require uniforms, but you do. Your children’s outfits for the next three months are chosen, monogrammed, pressed, and shrink-wrapped (with alternates for unexpected nippy weather) in a special digitized wardrobe that automatically yanks garments out of rotation if anyone in (ugh) public school is seen wearing them.

(b) Each kid owns enough clothes to go all week without wearing anything with holes, obvious stains, or beer slogans.

Lunches! Are you ready?

(a) You spent the summer perfecting the spreadsheets that tell you when to place bulk orders at Whole Foods so that the everyday staple pantry items (quinoa, bulgur, kefir, quingur, bulfir, and kefoa, which is pronounced “feh”) dovetail with the seasonal produce you expect to harvest from your garden, which you water using barrels that collect your hot yoga sweat, which, not to brag, is quite organic.

(b) You have a general idea of what your kids like to eat, and you try to pack it for lunch. If they don’t gobble up every bit of their packed lunch, they can always fill up on PBJ when they get home.

(c) You give yourself a gold star every time the school doesn’t send home a note saying, “Braedonica only had a pickled cocktail onion and a baggie of dog food in her lunch again. Please remember nutrition matters for young brains, sadface!”
By gold star, you mean “martini.”

Transportation! Are you ready?

(a) Yes, there is a bus that will pick up your child and bring her home, but, chérie, yellow is just not her color. So you’ve hired a dedicated Lyft driver for the morning and afternoon commute. He only drives an Audi, though, and that’s how it’s going to stay until a certain little offspring nudges that GPA up above 3.8.

(b) You’re going to be the mom waiting at the bus stop in a robe, or occasionally that mom driving frantically to school in a robe. So you’re not morning people, so big deal.

(c) You are seriously considering buying an RV and just living behind the school’s swing set until next June, because you’re really, really, really not morning people.

Homework! Are you ready?

(a) Per the training your child has received since he was at four months’ gestation, he doesn’t even want to play, snack, rest, or goof off until homework is completed, double-checked, initialed by both parents, autoclaved, and stowed away safely in the lightweight titanium binder etched with “For Your Consideration, Magister.”

(b) Your kids know they are expected to keep up with their work. They also know that Mom will forget to ask if they have homework half the time, and they only really have to do it when Daddy comes home before bedtime, because Daddy Always Remembers. Doing a little over half their homework earns them a solid C-, which is their version of the American dream.

Extracurricular activities! Are you ready?

(a) It’s so hard, isn’t it? You beg and plead for the children to just relax and be kids, or at least choose an after-school club that is just plain fun, but every year it’s the same thing: “Motherrr, we simply can’t turn our backs on our commitment to fostering functional STEM literacy among the unwed pregnant cat population. Be the change you wish to see, Motherrr!” they say.
You worry, but you’re also proud. So proud.

(b) Each kid gets to do one thing, and that’s it. There’s only so much extra driving and extra check-writing you can stand.

(c) Extracurricular? As in besides school? They want us to do a whole other thing? Does weeping quietly in a corner count as extracurricular? Because we can do that.

Traditional Beginning-of-the-year Teacher Gift Ideas! Are you ready?

(a) Wait, what?
(b) Come on.
(c) Kill me.

***

ANSWER KEY:

If you answered mostly (a), you are so ready, it’s already next year, so why not stay home and read back issues of GOOP by the light of your own intense awesomeness?
If you answered mostly (b), you are like 90% of the population, so relax.
If you answered mostly (c), you can hang around with my awful kids, and we’ll all feel better.

***
Image by ThoseGuys119 via Flickr (Creative Commons)

A version of this post ran in 2016. So sue me.

How long can you avoid summer employment? A quiz

Have you finally turned 16? Have you run out of excuses for spending the summer lying on your neck and building Minecraft volcanoes to throw your chickens into? If you are in the middle of a job hunt, here are some questions you can ask yourself, to predict your chances:

1. Your mother says, “Hey, you have a half day today. It’s a perfect opportunity to go pick up some applications.” Do you

(a) Say, “You’re right. Thanks. Let’s go.”

(b) Say, “But me and my friends were going to . . . never mind, let’s go. Hey, can we get pizza while we’re out?”

(c) Say, “Bu-u-u-u-u-u-u-ut I have to finish my science project that’s due tomorrow, and I haven’t had a chance to even start it yet because I was too busy doing the thing! Oh, and I need a square foot of silk, some denaturized borax, and a sheet of titanium/ Also, can you give me a real quick synopsis of what Shakespeare is about? And I need $450 for a yearbook — and please, Mom, cash this time. The pictures on your checks are so lame.”

2. Your father says, “So, have you filled out those applications yet?” Do you

(a) say, “Yes! They’re in this manila envelope so they don’t get lost or creased. Can you proofread them for me?”

(b) Say, “Yes! Well, mostly. Well, a few. Well, I started one. Well, I was about to. FINE. Can I borrow your pen?”

(c) Go into a long tirade about the crushing of the human spirit that is inherent in the request to distill personhood into little boxes and columns. For instance, your interests encompass the entirety of humanity, but I suppose that wouldn’t go over well with these corporate overlord tools, would it? I mean, what is even the point? Am I supposed to start off my journey into the adult world with a big, fat lie? Is that what you really want from me? Because I can do that, if that’s what you want. I’ll do it, and you’ll see.

3. You get up to the part that asks for references. Do you

(a) Have a wide selection of prominent community members from which to choose, but finally whittle it down to the chief of police whose puppy you saved from drowning, the nursing home director whose grant from the governor you secured, and the governor, who is your uncle.

(b) Come up with two people who are rooting for you and one who doesn’t wish you any particular harm. Ehh, nobody reads these anyway.

(c) Assume that most adults are too dumb to realize that the number you provided is your home phone, and the reference they’re speaking to is your dog.

4. You have a bunch of applications in your hand are are headed out to turn them in. Do you

(a) Stride in with confidence and cheerfully offer them to the person in charge, planning to follow up in a few days if you don’t hear back

(b) Politely but awkwardly turn them in and get the heck out of there before you trip again.

(c) Realize that you are the proud owner of eleven different but generic applications, and that you have no idea which one goes to which business. Also, they are wet with what we can only hope is that horrible Japanese melon soda you pretend to like. But other than that, you’re a shoe-in, champ.

5. You land an interview! Do you

(a) Dress nicely, speak clearly, answer truthfully, and generally project confidence, courtesy, and a willingness to work

(b) Answer some of the questions a little too honestly, but come off as reasonably ept.

(c) Forget to change out of your “Fools, I’ll destroy you all!” t-shirt. But they probably didn’t notice, since that infection in your eyebrow ring is all anyone can seem to look at anyway.

****

IF YOUR ANSWERS ARE . . .

Mostly (a), You’re done for. Soon you’ll be earning a check and building a resume. Thanks a lot, jerk! Now all the other kids are gonna be expected to get jobs, too!

Mostly (b), you are perilously close to actually landing a summer job. With any luck, your math teacher will need it more, though, and you can spend another summer at home.

Mostly (c), Hey look, one of the chickens got out of the volcano! BURN HIM.

Image via Pixabay (Creative Commons)

This post originally ran in the Register in 2014.

Do you even deserve a new year? A quiz

A few questions are all that lie between you and x-treme self-knowledge.

How did you fare as a pet owner?

(a) After rescuing, spaying, and neutering all the chinchillas in the tri-county area, I have established a fellowship to fund chinchilla rescue, spaying and neutering in perpetuity. Pretty soon, the chinchilla population will be so rescued, there won’t be any at all!

(b) The cat is now litter trained, and the dog now poops in the backyard. Good enough for me.

(c) Petco, Petsmart, and the Humane Society have posted Polaroids of our family with “DO NOT LET US HAVE LIVING CREATURES NOT EVEN BETTA FISH” scrawled in marker underneath.
How are your people skills coming along?

(a) I don’t mean to brag, but Harry and Meghan? My idea.

(b) I made it through Thanksgiving without getting in an argument with that one brother-in-law, and I’m proud that my kids saw that it’s possible to get along with people you don’t always agree with.

(c) If I can keep ahead of the sheriff until midnight, that will make only four restraining orders for the year. Oopsie, that’s a battering ram, gotta go!
Get any exercise this year?

(a) Ohhh, you could say that. My Nissan Leaf was weighed down by so many of those oval marathon stickers, I had to reclassify it as a light truck.

(b) I just made little changes: taking the stairs instead of the elevator, parking on the outskirts of the parking lot. Baby steps!

(c) I trained the dog to push the drink trolley over to my armchair.
What have you done to advance cultural literacy in your community?

(a) Since its debut six months ago, my groundbreaking “Shivs for Shakespeare” program decreased prison violence by 87% percent; and the Bolshoi Ballet is naming a new wrist gesture after me, in honor of my contributions to the overall exquisiteness of life.

(b) I joined one of those “let’s keep poetry alive” thingies on Facebook, and posted a Robert Frost poem that I’m fairly sure I understand (it’s ambiguous, right? Two roads? I remember ambiguity from college).

(c) One time somebody said it was “gering-ding-ding-ding-dinga-ding-ring!” and I was like lol moran its gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding get it rite!
Done anything for the environment lately?

(a) This summer, I came across someone running the engine in her gas-guzzling minivan — just running the engine, not even going anywhere. She spouted some anthropocentric nonsense about having to keep her disabled grandmother cool with air conditioning while she waited for the pharmacy to refill her heart medication prescription. I showed them! Grabbed the keys right out of the ignition, tossed ’em in the river. I feel kind of bad about the river, though.

(b) I swore off buying cases of bottled water. An aluminum water bottle works fine, once you get used to it.

(c) Someone from the Nature Conservancy came to my door looking for a donation, and I did not set him on fire.
Any progress in eating better?

(a) Two years ago, I swore off eating anything with eyes. Last year, I increased my kale consumption by 600%. This year, my goal is to eliminate anything salty, sweet, sour, or umami, or anything that I can sense with my teeth, tongue, or lips.

(b) I am a busy person, and have made my peace with frozen veggies and “semi-homemade.”

(c) I got a new slow cooker for Christmas and immediately Googled “crockpot moonshine.”
How’s the ol’ spiritual life?

(a) I have consecrated my life to the Sacred Heart, to The Immaculate Heart of Mary, and to Jesus through Mary. That ought to cover it.

(b) No huge breakthroughs, but I think I’ve grown closer to God, and praying is easier.

Have you broken yourself of the habit of ending things too abruptly without proper closure?

(a) Yes.

***

A version of this quiz originally blah blah blah 2013.
Image by istolethetv via Flickr (Creative Commons)

How ready are you for the end of school? A quiz

You check your calendar and realize there is yet another evening concert tonight. You . . .

(a) stride into the child’s room to make sure the concert apparel is clean and pressed, shoes are shined, and that the after-school snack you’re planning doesn’t include cheese, which can produce a phlegmy sound in the vocal cords. Oop, there’s just time to run out for flowers!

(b) sigh a little and adjust your schedule so everyone can get there on time. Maybe bring some work with you.

(c) barrel through the stages of grief as quickly as you can, then set to work figuring out why it’s definitely your husband’s turn to represent.

(d) contact your lawyer. This just isn’t right. This just isn’t right.

As your child leaves for school, you notice that his shoes are pretty beat up. You . . .

(a) are relieved, because it’s been nearly four months since his feet have been measured and fitted by your on-call orthopedist. Optimal brain function is only possible when the body is cared for from top to toe.

(b) dig out a spare pair that are not perfect, but they’ll get the kid through.

(d) growl, “Well, we got plenty paper bags. Here’s a marker; draw yourself a swoosh.”

You are packing a lunch for your kid and you make sure it . . .

(a) includes a lean protein, two servings of veg and one of fruit (local, obvs), a grain (because kids will be kids!), and . . . let’s see, it’s Thursday, so that means the extra treat will be . . . cauliflower-based! Fun! Now, which mason jar conveys the most love?

(b) is reasonably balanced, won’t trigger anyone’s allergies, and may even get eaten.

(d) is heavy enough to appear to contain food, for plausible deniability.

You are informed there will be three field trips next week, each one requiring a special lunch and extra snacks, early drop-off and late pick-up time, a sheaf of permission slips and release forms, and of course a check. And money for the gift shop. You . . .

(a) sprint to the phone to volunteer as chaperone. You always wanted to see how they sort industrial grit, and now you get to do it alongside a large group of middle schoolers! Win win!

(b) are just grateful someone else is organizing these things. It’s nice, really, that kids get to break out of the routine.

(c) shout, “FINE” and tear a check from the checkbook so violently that you accidentally clock the kid in the jaw, and when she stops crying, she admits that she didn’t want to go anyway because her best friends Braeydinn and Peyytun are being weird, so you decide to just skip it and get donuts together.

(d) take the kid by the hand and ask him if he really wants to go, grasping his hand tighter and tighter until he begs you to let go, I mean let him stay home and help you get caught up on laundry and really just be useful to you in any way you need, really.

You scroll ahead in your calendar to find out when the last day of school is, anyway. You . . .

(a) sit right down and write a thank-you note to the superintendent for all his hard work and wise and prudent choices over the year. Those guys just don’t get enough credit, you know? Six figure income, you say? That doesn’t seem like enough.

(b) sigh a little bit, but you have to be grateful there is such a thing as school. Some places don’t have school.

(c) massage your temples, breathe like your therapist wants you to breathe, and work toward a place of acceptance, by which you mean “only soft screaming.”

(d) decide that, as of this minute, you are homeschooling, dammit, and it is summer.

***

Scoring:

Come on, what do you want from my life? A+. You all get an A+. All right?

Image by Ian Chapin via Flickr Creative Commons

Should you read Laudato Si? A quiz

Laudato Si is here, and not a moment too soon. Any day now, all the pundits and politicians and armchair theologians were going to start feeling ashamed for going so berserk over an encyclical that hadn’t been released yet. Any day, I’m sure of it!.

Now that it’s here, should you read it? It is kind of long, and there aren’t any pictures or gifs to break it up. Here’s a short quiz to help you determine whether or not you should invest the time and effort. The more points you get, the more urgent it is that you read the encyclical.

Take the quiz at the Register.

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At the Register: The Rotten Teenager’s Guide to Staying Unemployed

Not that I would know anything about this, not having, nor ever having been, a rotten teenager. No sirree.

Are you using the right method of NFP?

If you are all done finding out which character from The Hunger Games you are, which character from Downton Abbey you are, and which character from pornoDownton Abbey you are, you might be ready for a quiz that actually helps: Which Method of NFP Is Right for Me?

For a lot of couples, NFP is even more of a hassle than it needs to be because they’re not using the best method for them. We happened to stumble into Creighton just because our local hospital offered classes on it; and it turned out to be a good fit for us (although it wasn’t truly tolerable until I discovered OTC progesterone cream. I think I will write a separate post about that, because it was such a game-changer).

Anyway, try the test from IuseNFP.com and see if maybe you could find a better fit for your personality, your physical situation, and your needs. It’s not a flawlessly precise quiz, of course, but it may point you in a better direction if you’re really struggling. Sometimes changing methods makes all the difference!

And poke around the IuseNFP site while you’re at it. Lots and lots of useful information there, all in one spot — plus cheeky graphics like this:

And of course, if you are already using NFP and are struggling, or you don’t understand why NFP-users struggle, or you know a couple who’s insterested, or you would just like a shoulder to cry on, you should buy my book, The Sinner’s Guide to NFP.