Skip to main content

Took an Online Quiz to Find My Spirit Vegetable, and Now I Question Everything!

It all started so innocently. I was procrastinating, as one does, and thought, “Hey, I’ll take an online quiz that popped up in my social media fee to figure out my spirit vegetable.” You know, for science.

Twenty minutes, three personality crises, and one suspicious result later, I’m still unsure how my favorite Muppets character and choice of breakfast pastry led to me being told I’m emotionally aligned with… a celery stick.

Celery.  Dry. Crunchy. Full of water and trauma.  But that was just the beginning.  

Read on:

The Vegetable Awakening

Quiz 1: “What Spirit Vegetable Are You Based on Your Weekend Plans?”

I picked “nap,” “more nap,” and “eating snacks in bed,” which felt deeply honest. Result?

Celery.

Apparently, I’m “chill, reliable, and often overlooked but important in soup.”

So, now I’m a background character in a stew?! Wow! My self-esteem is seasoning-dependent.

Quiz 2: “Design a Dream House and We’ll Reveal Your Inner Pasta Shape”

Because that makes total sense, right?

I chose a pink front door (c'mon, Mellencamp, man!), a cozy reading nook, and a rooftop garden.

Result: Macaroni.

Why? Because I’m “classic, fun, and shaped like a tiny hug.”

Okay… flattered, but also: how did a virtual staircase determine the shape of my soul?

Quiz 3: “Tell Us Your Favorite Disney Villains, and We’ll Tell You Which Bread You Are”

Spoiler: I chose Mickey, Donald, and Goofy.  Classics!

Result: Sourdough.

It said I was “complex, a little salty, and surprisingly comforting.”

Honestly? Accurate. I accept this as canon doctrine , for sure!

Quiz 4: “Build a Charcuterie Board, and We’ll Reveal Your Mental Age”

I picked way too much cheese and an entire bowl of gummy bears.

Result: 71.

EXCUSE ME? Just because I like soft foods like Brie and sugar doesn’t mean I knit sweaters for pets.

Quiz 5: “Choose a Series of Random Images, and We’ll Guess Your Life’s Greatest Fear”

This one was straight-up unsettling. I picked a photo of a raccoon eating pizza and a glitzy hallway.

Result: “You’re afraid of being perceived.”

Um, okay...

Final Thoughts from a Spirit Vegetable

No doubt, these junk online quizzes are like internet horoscopes written by sleep-deprived raccoons. Somehow vague, weirdly specific, and just accurate enough to freak you out.

I mean, am I really celery? Is my soul shaped like macaroni? Should I fear being perceived by society because of a glitzy hallway?

I simply don’t know.

But I do know I’ll probably take another quiz tomorrow because I need to know what kind of haunting energy I give off based on my usual Starbucks order.




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I Tried to Teach My Cat About Cryptocurrency — Here's What Happened Spoiler: she walked across the keyboard and may now own part of a meme coin. Like any good millennial with more anxiety than savings, I recently decided to dip my toe further into the murky digital waters of cryptocurrency. But rather than suffer alone, I thought: why not share the knowledge with someone in my house who has even less financial literacy than I do? Enter: Mittens , my cat. She has no job, no bills, and spends most of her time licking her own butt. In other words, she’s the perfect crypto investor. Lesson 1: What is Cryptocurrency? I began by sitting Mittens down and explaining the basics: "Crypto is decentralized digital money that uses blockchain technology to secure transactions." She responded by biting a power cord. Which, honestly, is probably what most people should do when they hear about blockchain for the first time. Lesson 2: The Blockchain I showed her a diagram ...

I Accidentally Summoned the Saucepocalypse

So, listen. I’m not saying I’m bad at homesteading, but if the zombie apocalypse hits and someone hands me a tomato and says, “Preserve this for winter,” I’m handing it back and asking for a pre-sealed can of SpaghettiOs.   Late last summer in a tragic display of optimism, Pinterest confidence, and a YouTube binge, I decided to can tomatoes for the first time. You know, like our great-grandmothers used to do. With love. And patience. And probably a lot less swearing too. The dream was warm shelves of mason jars glowing ruby red with fresh tomatoey goodness, waiting to become stews, soups, and sauces.  The reality was that my small kitchen looked like someone had been murdered by marinara. Various friends contributed 20 pounds of tomatoes to the cause.  I wanted " a lot" because I assumed they’d shrink like laundry in a dryer. (Spoiler: they don’t. They multiply. Kind like gremlins. Angry, juicy gremlins.) Anywho... Blanching tomatoes means dropping them into b...

Conversations with my dog: An exclusive Interview with the fluffy therapist

My dog may be dramatic, slightly unhinged, and have the judgmental stare of a Victorian ghost, but he’s also my best friend. And sure, he can’t actually talk—but if he could, I’m pretty sure this is exactly how it would go:  (BTW,  I gave him a treat as a bribe just in case.) Me: Thank you for sitting down with me today. I know your schedule is jam-packed with barking at nothing and dramatic sighing. My Dog: [Licks own butt.] You’re welcome. I had to cancel a very important nap for this, so let’s make it quick. Me: Let’s get right to it. Why do you bark at the mailman? Every. Single. Day. My Dog: Because he dares to show up uninvited, and then—get this—he leaves. Suspicious behavior. I’m protecting the nation. You’re welcome. Me: Okay, but he’s literally here every day. You know him. My Dog: Exactly. It’s always the ones you think you know. Me: Fair. Moving on. Why do you insist on sitting directly on me even though you’re 60 pounds of pure dog? My Dog: You are my chosen thro...