I hate your face ESTJ: Stop making sense.

It doesn't make sense, but an ESTJ can have fun anywhere. Anywhere. Like Ren Faires. High school band performances. Workplace holiday parties. Booze cruises. If someone somewhere created an event for the express purpose of having fun, the ESTJ will have fun. Somehow.

Well, not anywhere. They are completely incapable of having fun in a traffic jam. Or a Laundromat. Or at the DMV. (I know a happy couple whose first date was to the DMV. His driver's license photograph has the biggest shit-eating grin. He recommends it.)

So yeah. Either the ESTJ's capricious whims fix things as "fun" and "not fun" throughout society, or they are so prey to public opinion that they are incapable of observing that no one has freely enjoyed a Ren Faire ever, unless said persons were making money or making out.

Also they are very good at spinning plates. Too good.

I hate your face, ESTP: You can tell I know this type really well.

ESTP, this morning there was a sobbing woman in my carpool. I suspect this is your fault. Pro tip: only assholes pick fights before 7AM.

I hate your face, ESFJ: Please don't run for president.

There's a Douglas Adams quote which I will now paraphrase: Our superficial differences almost completely disguise our fundamental differences. That is, when I spend time with an ESFJ, I am so delighted to actually manage conversation that it is only later I realize we are incapable of communicating.

I know communicating with them requires appropriate garb, a great deal of social niceties, and not getting distracted mid-sentence. On a good day, wading through this would involve me rolling a natural 20. The flustered wacky thing doesn't work at all.

But then later I think about what they said. (I do this for everyone, by the way. I ask my teachers about things they taught me in junior high. I stomp around the woods, considering books and conversations and life stories. Your thoughts are digested and chewed again like cud.) I realize that my core moral beliefs oppose their core moral beliefs. I think that my social construct is imperfect- when I encounter another, I'm anxious to discover if they have better solutions to universal problems. ESFJs think our way is the best and also under attack.

(by people like me) I think testing aphorisms and common sense is a sign of brilliance and the ESFJ does not. An ESFJ is very public about their core beliefs, and I'm not. And I think that people should constantly evaluate whether they're living up to their highest priorities. I... I don't think ESFJs do this very often.

I hate your face, ENTJ: Please stop destroying my dreams.

I've stated that my dream job is one where I think of a pretty idea, someone else comes up with a way to implement it, finds funding, organizes the office space, and hires the minions, and then I get to wander around in the field looking at pretty flowers. I'll gladly do statistics wrangling, walk through poison oak, and design the database- just please don't make me speak to the grant committee.

So given this, ENTJ should be my work soulmate, right? They are the only other personality type where I can argue a subject down to the ground, insisting on citations and mocking their sources, pointing out logic flaws and yelling "Ad hominem! Ad hominem!" where afterwards we dust ourselves off and get tea. They too would rather be told that they are mistaken when the alternative is continuing to be wrong. And they do things! They get things done! They implement ideas! I know they're goddamn gregarious, but at least they're gregarious about interesting things. And arrogant, yes yes, but so delightfully abashed when you smack down a supposedly erudite reference. They should be the ultimate small-dose friend.

But I hate them. Occasionally.

I hate them because they're the extroverted: they should have the social skills. I should be able to form a symbiotic relationship with one and ride their coattails to contentment, but they keep pissing people off. Apparently the rest of the world does not find veiled smirking references funny. The rest of the world does not want someone who commiserated appropriately about getting poked in the eye for five minutes to abruptly start talking about Philip of Macedon. The rest of the world does not want to defend every cursed subtopic in their fragile grandiose plan. I mean, I sympathize, clearly these people are no fun at all, but possibly ENTJ could shut up for ten minutes?

I assume that if people please me, they must be people-pleasers at heart. Apparently the ENTJ is specifically designed to amuse me. But look, if I had to learn basic social skills as a second language, possibly ENTJ friends could do so as well? Then we can rule the world together.

And I hate them because every single one I know- male and female- is a better feminist than I.

I hate your face, ISTP: No, I apparently just hate you.

Goodness, I have some strong feelings about this personality. Really. I mean, if I have any readers who are ISTPs, I'm sure we've had a discussion- say, about how much junior high sucked, or how we both like kitties- and I've ended up icily dissecting each comment you make before I storm away.

It's embarrassing.

So let's just go with some backhanded compliments. If everyone were an ISTP, communism would work. They work very hard, and work for the joy of work. It would also work because they'd be OK with letting some people starve every now and then.

You may have read this study- about how being unclear in communication leads to misunderstanding. (Really ladies, why don't you just talk like men?) This is never a problem for ISTPs. They'll just ignore things they don't want to hear.

I mentioned that the ISFP was very good at focusing, and I was envious. ISTPs are good at focusing too. On the surface, it seems like they're exactly the same as me, except they've exchanged sort of a fuzzy big picture thing for not being too lazy to get out of bed. They never take a deep breath and look at things from someone else's point of view, they never put a project down for a minute and daydream about duckies, they never check their work using another method... They are juggernauts- runaway freight trains. They won't know they're wrong until next year.

Competent, logical, focused, and with selective deafness- this is not a personality type big on the social safety net. Don't bother asking them for favors, regardless of importance. The upside is that they're stolid, self reliant, and brave in the face of adversity.

No wait, they're whiny little bitches. I swear, 60% of Internet drama can be traced back to an ISTP. Whether it's hiding under desks after a breakup, quitting Facebook (again) because someone snapped at you, or sending out a passive-aggressive e-mail to every botanist in the state when your underling finds another job, an ISTP will rise to the challenge of completely overreacting.

The one thing that makes ISTPs slightly less intolerable is hard work. Give them a craft, and watch them go. Then give them another craft. The thing that makes them more intolerable is permitting them to major in philosophy. They think parroting Sartre makes them a existentialist guru.

I hate your face, ISFJ: you must be plotting something.

All right, I don't really hate your face. Not because of any deep bond between us- what's a deep bond without an untapped vein of loathing- but because you are so sensitive and reserved. So understanding. So poised. So deft. So tactful. So full of aplomb. You must be up to something.

It's like hanging out with the sister from a girl adventure book. Not Laura, Mary. Not Jo, Beth. Not Elizabeth, Jane. No wonder their sisters went and wrote edifying quasi-fiction. You drove them to it, what with the yamato nadeshiko thing.

I hate your face, INFP: you shouldn't have

First things first. I hate it when they are sad because I yell at them.

There are three groups of people in an INFP's world. There is nakama, there are strangers, and there are enemies.

Due to internet magic, nakama now means "acquired family" or "compatriots". The whole concept exists as INFP pron. Nakama can be your favorite cause, or your genetic family, or your city, or all of humanity. I know an INFP who's donating a kidney to a stranger because she loves humanity so very much.*

And there's the second thing I hate. If you're in the nakama, INTPs are unsettlingly generous. Have you read "Gift of the Magi"? A young couple sell their most prized possessions to buy each other Christmas gifts- gifts which compliment the pawned items. Oh, heart warming, oh, tear jerking... It's freaking Christmas. There will be another one next year. Perhaps then you can sell your kidneys- unless you've already given them to orphans. Save the saleable heirlooms for a crisis, dammit.

You might think that someone who would pour out their life's blood for you would also be super understanding. And they are, up to an invisible secret point that no one can see. Not even the INFP. My mother (the INFP'S INFP) has friends she doesn't speak to because they found it hard to believe a mutual acquaintance would embezzle. I'm not supposed to invite people who helped raise me to my wedding because they disagreed with her about grazing rights. When she sees my high school boyfriends, she must be forcibly dissuaded from keying their cars. There are unshakable moral positions, and those who have violated them are no longer nakama. They are enemies.

Oh, and when INFPS are on the path of rightousness, nothing can stand in their way. Friendship, social structures, physiological need for sleep, laws of physics- all grass. All we have to do to put a man on Mars is convince an INFP that it is in the best interests of the nakama.

And strangers? If you are ever in need of a small health related consumable, ask an INFP. (There is no easy way to spot the except the worried expression and the halo.) They're always ready with pepto bismol or band-aides or a water bottle or a tampon. Imagine being thirteen and having your mom pass out sanitary products to strangers in a public bathroom.

*I was talking about altruistic kidney donation with my brother. He said "That kidney is mine in case drinking homemade moonshine has consequences." I said, "No, that kidney is mine for when I eat a mushroom that I'm certain was a chantrelle." Resolved: our four kidneys are owned communally.

I hate your face, ISTJ: stop pretending such behavior is normal.

Here are some tips, ISTJ.

It is normal to wax nostalgic about the treehouses of your youth. It is even reasonably normal to build a treehouse as an adult. If one were to make it slightly elaborate, that would be understandable. It is not normal to have a treehouse with three stories, a retractable roof, running water, electricity, wifi, and a queen sized bed. Oh, you're putting in a hot tub and a fifty foot rope swing? Well, I guess you have to keep up with the Jones.

It is normal to spend the weekend tinkering in the garage. Repairing bookshelves, that's normal. Tinkering with your car, perfectly sane. Building your mother a harp with hand tools; that's so sweet that we'll call it normal. Wiring pretty much everything electronic in your house so it can be turned on over the internet with a user interface so complex your wife plans to burn your house when you die? That's not normal. When she wakes up and you've been hard at work (in your treehouse) for four hours- it's a little creepy to remotely trigger the coffee machine and turn on the hot water heater. But let's talk about the rail gun. An adult building a rail gun in the garage is atypical, even if it doesn't work very well.

You see how I mentioned turning on the hot water heater? It's normal to leave it on all the time, actually. I've been lucky enough to meet two people who graph the gas used by the hot water heater, and they are both ISTJs. (Bonus points: derive an equation that approximates gas use.) Oh, and if you're really concerned about cutting costs, you can set up a passive solar heater in the garden and shower there. Even when it snows, what the heck. The fences are plenty high, don't worry. Possibly your teenager has some friends over, but the social stigma from a dad who runs naked through the backyard in sleet is minimal. Much less than when a father has his math class correlate increased hot water usage with the child entering puberty.

I think I've given up. I know I'm not the person to enforce societal norms or reasonable behavior. I'll just watch. Next to the phone. Oh, you put 911 on speed dial because previous accidents have made your fingers unreliable? It's 6? Maybe you should label that.

You know how everyone else just complains about all the snow plows dump in their driveway? Go ahead and shovel the street before they show up. You're awake anyway.

Weigh yourself every morning to see if you're dehydrated. Bike cross country with your infant. Grow mushrooms in your bedroom. Convert your bathroom into a darkroom. And explosives... what problems can't you solve with explosives? Have you met advice dog?

And yet on dates you reportedly talk about your stock portfolio all night.

I hate your face, INFJ: you aren't my mom.

INFJs will clean the kitchen without being asked. They will move everything two feet to the left or right, exactly beyond the distance where one glances. They will alphabetize the spices- my goodness, I didn't know I had three jars of allspice- and since so many spices in tiny jars are near the front of the alphabet (damn pumpkin pie) they will built a wall, an embankment that separates the cook from the salt, sugar, pepper, and vanilla.

They will replace the toaster because it is a "fire hazard". They will provide a new toaster that works fine without being watched, so you can wander away while making breakfast and return eight hours later to find cold toast.

Sometimes they will do other household chores as punishment for some complex moral issue no one else understands. Or they will eat all your raisins because they hate raisins and they were cruel earlier, so they need some raisins.

They will help you move. They will be unable to sleep in a strange house. They will unpack your things while you are sleeping and arrange all your books by publisher. You will not find your candy thermometer until the next time you move.

They will be understanding about being awoken at 6 am because you think they hid the cutting boards. They will always volunteer to be the DD, no matter who they are hanging out with. They are the leading cause of hungover strangers on your couch.

You know those sonic pest repellents? No poison, no traps, just a high pitched tone that gently discourages gophers from eating your daffodils. Living with an INFJ is like being the 5% of the population that can hear that tone.

I hate your face, INTJ: You cannot replace everyone with spreadsheets.

You could probably replace me tho.

I really started this series to bitch about a certain personality type- but every time I try, white objects take on a migrainy sinister glow. Let's talk about INTJs instead.

For the first 25 years of my life, I thought an INTJ was what you became when you grew up. One day, a larval INTP spins a cocoon of unfolded laundry, electronics with dead batteries, and sheets that should have been washed some time ago. The sheets are full of crumbs also; this is important. After a long weekend, a beautiful INTJ emerges, capable of designing an experiment, drafting a thesis, and hobnobbing with professors while rewashing all that disgusting laundry. Caring about bacteria that may get into cuts on bare feet seemed like a small price. Thus, I tried really hard not to hate them. It would be like hating my future self.

But I'm surrounded by them. It's time to admit I'll never ever ever be like them. Thank God.

How surrounded? Here's a list: Father figure, baby brother, Conquistador lord of the Undead, R, Drewscriver, Estebe, current supervisor, and godfather. If they're 1% of the population, I must smell like steak sauce.

I don't mind that they're always right. It's like one stop shopping for your opinions. All my very best debates are bodily lifted from my INTJ cohorts. I expect to learn why my opinions on INTJs are wrong shortly after publishing this, and to be completely convinced.

I don't mind that they're surly. The mind is strong, but the flesh is weak. It continues to be weak regardless of how much one yells at it. So frustrating.

I do mind the paranoia though. In fact, everyone minds it. We've been talking about it when they're just out of the room, explaining how irritating and unwarranted it is, and then making fun of their hair. Specifically their facial hair.

It's just that they are all too willing to assume malice when stupidity is the more likely culprit. Or assume stupidity when the other person has radically different goals or techniques. They aren't willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. Specially jerks. They are totally unwilling to try to see the jerk's side of things.*

When an INTJ wants something done, they will either issue a direct order or put on a persuasive Power Point Presentation. (No joke, the godfather proposed with one of these.) They'll never slip in that they'd consider it a personal favor, or that it might look good when you're looking for a raise, or that they picked you up from the mechanic last month. It's as of they were ESL students who skipped the conditional and interrogative forms to spend more time on the imperative.

There are people out there who do not like blunt orders from surly people who are always right. Goddammit INTJ, remember that they aren't plotting against you, they just hate you. If you'd consider that other people have different ways of seeing the world- that they aren't just inferior versions of your superior intellect- then you'd realize that no one else spends their free time stewing over how to damage people they hate. They just vex you whenever an opportunity arises.

*This seriously inhibits their ability to manipulate said jerk into either aiding the INTJ or falling into a clever trap. There Drewscriver, you can use this post for your evil machinations now.

I hate your face, ISFP: Hurry up!

That's my only complaint. They are sloooooooooooooooooooww. They take forever. Creeping. Ponderous. Phlegmatic. Elephantine. Measured. Lackadaisical. Cautious. Thorough.

See, while I came up with all those adjectives, the ISFP just wrote "slow". Slowly.

Also they are more effective at focused activities than I am. I refuse to believe this is related.

I hate your face, INTP: you aren't smart enough to be this dumb.

It's only fair that I open this series (certain to be incomplete, as I avoid swaths of the personality spectrum) with my own personality type. Also C's.

Our house will never be clean.

You know the absent minded professor? That is who the INTP wants to be. Socially accepted enough to not die alone, but not burdened by social mores. (While finding that link, I wandered away for three hours.) They dream of doing something valuable so well that people will work around their terrible incompetence. Then they can spend hours internetting or pouring water from one vessel to another or figuring out the social interactions of the local feral cats while someone makes them tea and pays the phone bill.

But this is hard! People are generally unwilling to do such things unless one is really really smart. And affable. And reasonably competent about certain emotionally significant issues.

So the INTP applies these skills like a veneer. One has to be reasonably dedicated to study oneself into appearing clever, one must fake extroversion in order to get an audience and minions, one must be slightly empathetic to know when one is truly irritating, and one must be detail oriented enough to remember to wear clean clothes and wedding anniversaries. After a few years of adulthood, you have something that resembles a functional human being.

Then the universe applies stress, and everything goes to hell.

There is no one more calculating, more cold, more cowardly than an INTP who feels put upon. They'll sell you down the river to get five minutes of quiet. If they have an interpersonal problem, their decision tree looks like this:

cut enemy's brake lines> grind teeth down to nubs > abandon bits of life that contain said person >> talk out problem

Also they can lose something neon in an empty room.