Tuesday, May 5, 2009


I'm blue. Not sad. Blue. I'm a Blue. I always thought I was a Red.

In Jr. High I tested as a Red. And so I thought ever since that I was Red. Nope. I'm Blue. Ish.

The Husband diagnosed me. In proper Red fashion told him he was crazy. Then I read through the information.

He was right. Ish.

Actually I'm purple shade, but decidedly more Indigo than Magenta.

The Husband: a rich and beautiful bloody Red.

What I'm not? A White. Pale and pasty as my skin may be, White my soul is not. There's too much peace in White.


No clue what I'm talking about? Hartman's The Color Code, a book that has had standing in the bathroom for quite sometime now (see, usually The Husband's inventory rotates more quickly--books on WWII, Mac magazines, stats quick-reference guides, etc.).

(Of course I'm not one to put too much stock into this witchery. My horoscope, weekly palm-readings, and daily minute on the phone with my psychic are significantly more helpful.)


Janeen said...

Love it! I am going to take the test myself and find out what color I am.

aezra noell said...

so, what does it mean to be "blue"?
and really? guess what? my verification code is "panti" uh-huh.

Sue said...

Colors simply and losely defined:

Woman walks into a hotel, having already made reservations by phone. Hotel clerk tells woman they have no record of her reservation.
A Red: Yells at the poor clerk and says, "Get me the H#*L a room right now!"
A Blue: Pulls out her planner and calmly shows the clerk the record she has of the day, and time she called for the reservation and the confirmation number.
A White: says she will quietly wait on the chair in the corner for a room to hopefully open up.
A Yellow: makes friends with the clerk, everyone in the lobby, as well as the taxi driver, who invites her home to meet his family and sleep in the spare bedroom.