Quiz me, poll me, redefine me

I haven't decided if I like Facebook or loathe it. On one hand, it has reconnected me with many, many folks I lost track of since my mom died and we moved six times in three years.

On the other hand, the "Which Sexy Lady Are You" quiz told me I was Doris Day.

Doris Day? Madame Goody-two shoes? I was hoping for Lauren Bacall or Kathleen Turner. I would have been content with Teri Garr or Morticia Addams. I would have even accepted Roseanne Barr -- but not Doris Day. Too much sunshine can kill you.

And if that wasn't depressing enough, another FB quiz said the president I'd most likely be is Millard Fillmore.

Sigh.

I love taking the quizzes -- any kind of quizzes. You know those pollsters who hang out at malls taking product surveys? Most people duck and avoid them. I chase them down, corner them and make them give me the quiz. I don't care if it's a product or service that has anything to do with me, I just like getting to express my opinions (Who? Me? Naaaah.). You should have seen the guy trying to ask me questions about what brand-name medicines helped the recovery time of a recent prostate surgery. The Viagra pollster is probably still in therapy ...

I used to be on the Gallup Poll calling list but they took me off because I kept calling them back for more surveys. If those internet scams about making money taking surveys were legit, I'd be taking them from my laptop on my yacht in the Mediterranean right now.

My greatest dream in life is to be asked to become a Nielsen family -- and won't that mess with their averages! The only time we're on the Big Three network channels is during Big Bang Theory, Wheel of Fortune and Desperate Housewives. Imagine Hollywood's surprise when Planet Earth and Cash Cab zoom to the top of the charts.

The FB quiz I took last night was a good one -- it told me what color my hair should be, based on my personality. Given my Doris Day-Millard Fillmore background, I was expecting blonde for Doris and gray and balding for old Millard -- who, if he wasn't the father of our country, was certainly the father of the Comb over.

But now -- the quiz said I should have red hair. Hmmmmm ... I have a preference for blonde, and thanks to Preference, I'm usually a blonde, but by the time the sun wreaks havoc with it, it has a reddish tint. But I've never truly though about taking the auburn plunge before, even though redheads run in my family clear back to Thomas Jefferson. Maybe being a redhead would spare me from some of the blond moments I've been having lately -- like when I drove past the pond on Fairfield Pike for the fifth time in one day and finally realized the reason that duck never flew away was because it was a decoy ...

Then again, a change in my blood pressure meds might help with those blond moments, too, or cutting back on the herbal teas ...

Nah, I'm not letting Facebook dictate my hair color. If I really paid attention to those quizzes, I'd be living in Florida right now. I'd be married to my cat instead of my husband, I would have been Rasputin in a former life, and my favorite tattoo would be a butterfly with whips and chains. The funniest one -- I took a quiz to see how well I remembered my days at Podunk High in Wichita. I scored very well, considering I'd never heard of Podunk High in Wichita.

But I'll keep taking the quizzes -- they're just too much fun and occasionally, they're dead-on accurate, like the one that said if I were a superhero I'd be She-Hulk (Awesome!!), if I were a horse, I'd be into dressage (Right again!) and if I were a cat, I'd be sleeping. Well, duh on that one.

And I'll definitely keep on with Facebook. Thanks to some creative investigation (search by schools, folks, it helps a lot) I found a favorite college friend who I had been told died years ago. News of his death were greatly exaggerated. We connected, ran up a huge phone bill, and found out we had one of those friendships that can pick up seven years later without missing a beat. Two days after our national debt of a phone call, my friend's father died suddenly and I was able to be there for him, on the 'Net, if not in person. It was as though the mystical powers that be connected us just when we needed to connect.

So if I have to be Doris Day {{shudder}} or Millard Fillmore (yawn) to keep connecting with old friends and coworkers, I guess it's a sacrifice I'll just have to make.

Que sera, sera.