cross-posted from TeenyManolo and I really wonder how the relative demographics will stack up. According to the data I can find, this blog skews strongly male, considerably more intelligent and educated than average, and with a substantially lower income than average. Ah, my people. At least, all my ex-boyfriends.
While I’ve long suspected I would not flourish in the era, it must be admitted that I love watching Thirties movies, and am slightly addicted to the bizarre hats of the period.
But it’s not a problem. I can stop wearing those hats any time. Seriously. And I’m sure the staff at Home Depot and the grocery store wishes I would.
But now comes scientific(ish) proof, once and for all, that I’d be an absolutely rotten Thirties housewife. I find solace in the fact that so would Katherine Hepburn and Myrna Loy. Oh, who wants to be that insipid martyr Mrs. Stephen Haines, when you could be the fabulously kooky Irene Bullock or the witty and wonderful Nora Charles? They’d both be fabulous failures in this quiz, too.
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23 As a 1930s wife, I am |
via ArchiesArchive
So what did you get?
Scoring:
0-24 – Very Poor (Failure)
25-41 – Poor
42-58 – Average
59-75 – Superior
76+ – Very Superior
If it makes you feel any better, you can answer for your husband on the 1930’s Husband Quiz as well. Don’t tell him the results; it would only upset the poor darling.
48 Comments
Hmmmm . . . . if I were a 30’s wife it would probably be a tossup between James Whale and Ernest Thesiger
Ha. Ha. Take the test! There’s no estrogen detector on it.
Why so bitchy, dear?
I’m a bitch; or didn’t you read the results. I’m Joan Fucking Crawford, I am!
they all look like they’re ready to be snatched away by King Kong!
King Kong wouldn’t mess with a dame like Ros.
I got a 31. Poor. I actually thought I would have been a good 30’s wife, I guess I was wrong.
I lost points for the boozing and red nail polish, and running around the house in my sock feet. I must be a terrible slut.
41 as a wife
125 as a husband
My wife must be a bitch
My husband must be a self-righteous bastard
Awesome. Will you marry me and keep me in booze and nail polish? And before Metro points it out, they can sub in for one another if you do it right.
I actually thought I’d do well, but I scored a 22. Maybe it was because of the part about cooking canned food in my pjs that did it…
Uh oh. I scored 20. That means no man is going to marry me right?
I am cursed, I tell you, cursed.
Well, no really, really OLD men are going to marry you, so look on the bright side.
Wow, I’ve got a better chance of getting a husband than does Max . . . .
Doomed
We’re all Doomed
DON’T PANIC
I didn’t realize FFE is in danger of becoming an Episcopalian
Oh, SNAP!
I got 13. Maybe I misunderstood the marital congress question.
Great 30’s movie: The Women. Perfect for a rainy Sunday.
The blogger at Seismic Twitch got zero. Archie claims his wife got a negative number, but I think he fixed the text.
Archie – I was a closet Anglican one
Ella – they’re always getting that confused in India’s Congress Party, but the mass meetings are a hoot all the same . . . .
I would guess so. Thank god those old white dudes in Washington know the difference; nobody wants to see THAT!
Marital congress–that involves 100 people, right?
@FFE: Nail polish comes in different colours so that Raincoaster can drink B-52s.
And yes, in a pinch she’ll drink the fuel out of a B-52 as well. The biggest hit to her wallet has been the price of gasoline. Nowadays she might as well buy cooking wine.
99 as a husband. I’m going to be very smug about that if my wife ever comes home again.
25 as a wife. Obviously I’m very well adapted.
Like I said on TeenyManolo, obviously they set the bar lower on the male side of the marital congress.
Clearly I must do away with FFE if I want to find myself a man. Sorry, FFE, it is just one of those survival of the fittest things, nothing personal.
Don’t worry Max – as long as I can be Myrna Loy and William Powell, there’s no competition between us.
Metro – actually, marital congress involves 100 people in one house and 435 in the next house, but there are chaplains in each house . . . .
style=”text-align: center;”>40As a 1930s wife, I amPoorTake the test!
Whhhaaaat? I thought I did everything right but it wasn’t enough!
As for you, dear, Rain, I’m not surprised! We would have made perfect neighbors back in the day!
You are not NEARLY milquetoasty enough for this. I can see us bitching over the back fence in my mind’s eye.
Bonjour, Senor FFE
I’m not Spartacus
Vote Quimby
Yr obedient servant etc
G E
M. Eagle – or, as Tony Curtis would say, Spah-tu-cuth
Oh God I got 83 – a superior 1930’s wife. Trouble is the only chap I know who wants to turn the clock back is already married and isn’t exactly a fan of mine. My ex is a very modern male -> he f***ed off.
I was discussing Canada t’other day and thought it would be great to visit and if you could visit us, Raincoaster. When I win the lottery your ticket to Blighty is the first thing I’ll buy :-)
And if I win the lottery the first thing I will buy is…my freedom from debt. The second thing is a damn fine lawyer. The third thing is a trip, and England is definitely on the top of the list there.
You wouldn’t plan on stalking Boris and Blair, would you?
Oh, PERISH the thought. If they’d only indicate they’d pick up the tab for lunch, I might stalk them for a day or so, though. Only if they asked nicely.
Besides, if I wanted to stalk Blair wouldn’t I go to Geneva and ambush him outside his bank?
Bory’s a tory. They never pay for lunches–not even their own.
This is true. Apparently when he moved into the mayor’s office they found a wine cooler (I will need to explain to the trailer-parkier readers that this is a refrigerator sort of thing, not a product from Bartles and Jaymes) with about 100 bottles. I last heard they were down to 36. I hope they save a few for me!
I heard that Labour sleazoids had tried to smear Boris by filling old wine bottles up with Vimto-esque cordial, blowing a bit of dust on them and then alerting the authorities to the new Mayor plundering possesions of persons unmet and unknown.
All total bollocks, obviously. (a lesser known brand of cordial made by a socialist atheist commune on the Isle of Wight)
Don’t be silly: he’s English. He’d drink it anyway.
Well, if he’d married me, he’d be drinking in secret, out of the house and not with my pin money.
If I’d married her, she’d be the ball at our next drinking club rugby match.
Oh! A wine cooler. The Old Man got me one for Christmas. But mine only holds eight. You think he’d get me one big enough to hold a case and some coke.
You meant to capitalize that “C”, right?
Oops.
BTW, ot, but, have you gotten anything in the mail lately? Anything random????
You missed my post on the Man of Mystery? Honestly, I’m ashamed of myself that it took me a whole day to think of just Googling the name. Thank you, I have enjoyed it.
Many, many times.
Now I want Gladiator sandals for my birthday! Fortunately, they’ll all go on sale in a week or so, so I might actually get some!
Those damn Gladiator sandals. By the time they’re available they’ll be as ancient as Sarah Jessica Parker. Oh what the hell, I’d still wear ‘em.
Wait – did you say on sale? So they are available????
Gladiator remains my favorite movie. I wish Russell Crowe were available for purchase. He can throw a telephone at me anytime!
From what I hear from informed sources, he’s available for borrowing at the very least!
What? What do you mean? Do you mean what I think you mean? But he’s married!
Straight borrowing, right?
Straight borrowing. Have to return him before midnight or there’s a fine, too.
Hot dayum! Perhaps it was a smart move attempting to befriend his wife on myspace.
Do your sources know if she knows? Or does she even care? Just how sordid does this get?
All I know is, he was out with the wife at a London club, started working the room, he and his pal disappeared into the back through the kitchen with two barely-legal blondes, returned half an hour later without the blondes. You connect the dots.
Wife did not bat an eye, but maybe she didn’t know he was gone.
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