This totally explains all the penis enlargement e-mails I've gotten

Somebody found a new way to waste time during the holidays! For anyone who ever wondered if the author behind their favorite blog was a man or a woman, GenderAnalyzer is this new site that analyzes homepages to determine the sex of the writer. I imagine there are all sorts of fancy formulas at work behind the scenes here, like keyword analysis and color scheme and tag reading in relation to which direction the wind is blowing at that moment in northwest Arkansas.

Clearly open to any distraction whatsoever while at work the week of Thanksgiving Although hard at work, I decided to take a moment yesterday to determine whether I was, in fact, a woman or a man.


Aren't you dying to know the results?

We think http://www.yellaphant.com is written by a man (75%)

WHAT THE WHAT? Clearly, I have a lot of questions now. Was it all my talk about the engagement ring? Or maybe it was my gushing over tampons? Or how about my obsession with Chase Utley's butt?

Whatever it was, it has been determined that 75 percent of the judges at GenderAnalyzer think that I'm a man. Or maybe that percentage means I'm 75 percent man, in which case I'd like to speak to my mother please because I have some pressing questions. And also if I'm really 75 percent man does that mean I get to pee standing up from now on because that would be awesome.

And since I've obviously been a little bit blindsided by my recent discovery that I'm 75 percent man, I think it would be a good idea if every blogger analyzed their gender too because what if you've been peeing in the wrong position all this time?

Speaking of men, tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I'm going to spend the entire day eating like a big fat hairy one. And that means tonight is Thanksgiving Eve, and since I've decided the only thing to do is embrace my new 75 percent manness, I've got a lot of beer pounding to do because I'm an equal opportunity drinker. And speaking of beer pounding, there are going to be so many assholes out in the city tonight that I think I'll just stay in and shove my hand down the garbage disposal can barely contain my excitement. Because I don't have a garbage disposal. I have a trash can that smells like warm gym socks and tuna casserole.

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