If you choose "Mostly A's," I don't know if we can still be friends.

Okay, first things first. Did you see my gorgeous new blog design? In the summer, I won a contest for a free blog redesign from Ruby and Roja. I was thrilled beyond belief (although now I can officially no longer use the old “but I never win anything! No, really!” line ever again), and so excited at the prospect of doing away with my heinous old template. The lovely Beth assisted me with the new look (brilliantly interpreting my vague directions, such as “flowy and less boxy,” among other things); she was as sweet, creative, patient, and helpful as could be. Excuse me while I hug my laptop for a moment.

Ahh.

Now, where was I? [Drags eyes away from pretty new blog design.]

Over the past year or so, I’ve found myself becoming more and more of a walking cliché. I mean, my god, if I had a dollar for every time I heard myself going, “What do you mean, WHY shouldn’t you [dip your bath toys in the toilet/eat M&Ms for breakfast/pour ketchup in the sink]? Because I SAID SO!” I would…probably have enough money to pay for another pair of Wolford tights. (That’s for you, Slynnro and Whoorl.)

As if that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve actually grumpily muttered under my breath about my neighbor’s loud music and recently needed to tone down my (aghast) expression when I visited the mall and saw how pre-teen girls are dressing lately. Seriously, people. I’m ELDERLY. I need some prunes and a shawl. And not one of those cute, funky shawls that Anthropologie keeps trying to convince me is cool; I’m talking, like, a nubby, moth-eaten space-dyed monstrosity from 1974. I'm basically one step away from shaking my fist at neighborhood kids who cut across my lawn. AND I DON'T EVEN HAVE A LAWN.

The thing is, though, it doesn’t bother me too much, because while I am clearly to some extent A Very Old Lady, it is apparent that-judging at my responses to certain recent situations -I am also in part an extremely immature 14-year-old boy. To see whether you are similarly afflicted, please take my brief quiz, entitled Just How Immature Are You?:

1) You and your husband are in the process of leasing a new car. The salesman is fabulous to work with, and your husband praises the guy to his boss, telling him, “He was great; he didn’t pressure me into doing anything that made me uncomfortable, and really listened to what I wanted.” WHAT DO YOU DO?

A) Nod and smile in silent assent, because there is absolutely nothing humorous about anything he just said.

B) Shriek, “That's what she said. THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!”

C) Snort/laugh inwardly while THINKING about option B, to the point that you’re biting the insides of your cheeks to keep from bursting out laughing, but the sheer effort of it all has tears running down your face, so you stage a coughing fit to wipe your eyes and camouflage the sound of your juvenile giggles.

2) Congratulations! You’ve successfully leased the car, and are signing the paperwork at the desk with the salesman. The insurance people have requested your car’s Vehicle Identification Number number, however, and as you read it off to them, you get to the letters “B” and “J” adjacent to each other in the ID code. WHAT DO YOU DO?

A) Calmly continue reading the ID to the insurance lady without pause, because there’s nothing funny happening here.

B)Guffaw. Loudly.

C) Calmly continue reading the ID to the insurance lady without pause, but make sure to look over at your husband, catch his eye, and meaningfully yet subtly smirk and raise one eyebrow, just to make sure he caught the UTTER HILARITY of the unfortunately-placed letters in the ID. (He did.)

3) While waiting for the salesman to return from the printer with yet another pile of paperwork, you overhear two other salesmen chatting. The first guy says to the second guy, “I have my duty here, and you have your duties there. Let’s not mix all our shit together, okay, man?” You:

A) Nod approvingly at the mature manner in which these gentlemen handled the oft-thorny issue of jurisdiction as it relates to individual job responsibilities.

B) Think to yourself, “ HAHAAAAAA! IT SOUNDS LIKE THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT POO!”

C) Snicker quietly, but sort of hate yourself for it.

How did you score? (Hehe. Score.)