1. Your curfew is eleven o'clock sharp. At 11:02p.m., you're
(a) hopping into bed and pulling your Star Wars sheets up tight
(b) dry heaving in the bushes behind some kid's house.
(c) shakin' it with the foreign exchange hottie like you just don't care. His name is Sven. Tell him your name is Natasha.
2. At Metropolis, you see your hot crush talking to some State-Fair-hair girl with a fanny pack and Kangaroo sneakers. You
(a) break-dance over and blurt, "Hey you guys, what's shakin'?"
(b) make out fiercely with nearest available guy, now!
(c) lick faces with your closest girlfriend. That'll get his attention, garunteed.
3. Under your knickers, you go
(a) granny pants with crusty rotted-out elastic. Hey, you're on The Rag. Enuff said.
(b) pretty white panties, aka Elvis Presley style.
4. After months of trying to get his attention, you're talking to the local skated star who's finally digging your vibe when your best gal pal tugs on your arm, complaining, "I feel sick." You
(a) ignore her. She always pulls a stunt like this when you're getting attention from a cute guy.
(b) sigh, roll your eyes, and tell her there's Pepto-Bismol in the car.
(c) slip the skater your digits and get your girl to the pharmacy, pronto. Girls come first. Always. No questions asked.
5. Last record you bought:
(a) New Kids on the Block, New Kids on the Block
(b) Cat Stevens Greatest Hits
(c) The Dead Kennedys. Rawk on.
6. Your grandmother gives you a cashmere Lacoste sweater for Christmas. You
(a) wear it every single day. It looks smokin' with a silk scarf knotted around your throat.
(b) give it to your mother, commenting, "Want this rag?"
(c) dye it black and wear it inside out. So punk rock.
7. C'mon, be honest- if you could be the star of any major sitcom, you would be
(a) Blair from The Facts of Life
(b) that blond chick who got Ricky Schroeder's ID bracelet on Silver Spoons but had to give it back because some loser guy saved her life instead.
(c) Lisa Bonet on The Cosby Show.
8. You walk into a party and it appears your reputation has preceded you. A bunch of guys in baseball caps laugh into their hands, coughing, "Slut!" You
(a) spin around on your heels and run home, crying kind of.
(b) ignore the jokester guys, find a scruffy metalhead you met at a concert, sit on his lap instead.
(c) march over and say, "Interesting word choice. I heard crabs are fresh this season. At least thats what your ex said."
9. Close your eyes. Think of an animal. You see
(a) a horse with a golden, flowing mane.
(b) your dad with his pants around his ankles jerking off in the pantry.
(c) a fierce, yellow-eyed she-wolf licking her chops.
10. You're backstage at a rock show. Grunge boy rockers everywhere. The lead singer, a scruffy, mop-topped lovely, is leaning into you. He asks, "Wanna see our tour bus?" You
(a) start giggling compulsively and get the hell out of there, like your tail feathers are on fire.
(b) check out the bus and get nekkid quick. Hello? Rock star, score!
(c) say "Okay" and check it out, knowing that "Okay" doesn't translate to "I promise I will give you a blow job now." It means you'll check out the motherfucking bus and do whatever the fuck you want, when you want.
YOUR SCORE SAYS:
NUN-IN-TRAINING (MOSTLY A's)
Hello, Singing Nun? What's wrong with you? Listen, it's no big whoop. Seriously. "I mean, come on. Even I can do better than that," sophmore Thisbe Newton from Sacred Heart Holy Angels says. "It's scary, I know. You're alive, sweetheart. Make the best of it. The world is waiting for you. It's whispering, 'Come here. Closer. No, closer. Thaaaaat's it.'"
SKANKY HO (MOSTLY B's)
Take it down a notch, sister. Holy shit. Act out much? "You're a skankin' ho," says Juli Sung, a sophmore from Sacred Heart Holy Angels. "Reel it in, girl. Before you get yourself in trouble." Puking in the bushes? Please. Where's your self-respect? This is the age of AIDS, babyface, yourself included. Do you want to grow nasty, groddy-looking sores all over your face and die before you've even had an orgasm? Yeah, we know all about that. Listen, just chill out. Next time, instead of going South of the Border for him, why not palm him a one-way ticket down Mexico way? Yeah, girl! You know you want to. Go for it. You'll be surprised.
WHORE ON THE HILL (MOSTLY C'S)
Rock on. You are so Lisa Bonet, so she-wolf, so commando-going, get-your-freak-on, powerhouse sex bomb. "You're exploring your sexuality," says Astrid Thornton. "You're a healthy, normal teenage girl." You know the difference between doing something for fun and doing something because you feel pressured. Own it. Love it. Live it. And tell the rest of the world to step the fuck off, pronto.
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