So let me see if I have this right.

As a feminist woman, I’m supposed to be thrilled at every woman who makes any headway in the political arena because we share the same genitals. Simultaneously, I’m supposed to discount any of their beliefs, stances or stupidity in the name of sisterhood. So following that logic, I must put admirable Republican women like Christie Whitman, Kay Bailey Hutchison or Olympia Snowe in the same breath as Michelle Bachmann or Sarah Palin and think it’s like way cool to comment about your political opponent’s hairstyle.

As an environmentally conscious citizen, I’m supposed to look at every single photo of oil-drenched birds and rail all the live long day to show how much I care about the unfathomable disaster still unfolding in the Gulf of Mexico. And, of course, I’m supposed to pretend I know even a fraction as much as the award-winning scientists trying to solve the problem and project all my anxiety onto my President by questioning his leadership because he’s not maternal, paternal, religious, or atheist enough.

As a sports fan who happens to reside in the United States, I’m supposed to get on the “soccer sucks” bandwagon during the World Cup and act like there’s nothing thrilling about watching a forward feed a precision pass to a striker who goes in for the score or witnessing a save that requires a goalie to extend his entire body in front of a rocketing soccer ball. After all, watching an outfielder catch a fly ball is so much more riveting. Now that’s Americana.

As a once-introverted and insecure teenager, I’m supposed to assume everyone between the ages of 13 and 19 falls in the same category and cannot possibly have enough confidence and skill to take on a monumental challenge like sailing solo around the world. That means condemning Abby Sunderland for her courage and perseverance and her parents for showing faith in their child.

As a naturally curious person, I’m supposed to care about the status of people’s relationships -- i.e., Al and Tipper, Bristol and Levi, Cameron and A-Rod – and put my two cents in because of course who knows better what goes on between two people than a complete stranger who’s never met them? I must chime in to feel better about my own choices, you know, the whole misery-loves-company thing.

As a person who was in New York on September 11, 2001 and whose entire life changed because of it, I’m supposed to hit my boiling point because there are plans to build a mosque near Ground Zero. To show my patriotism, I must generalize and turn a blind eye to the nuances of individuality and extremism and assume that all Muslims are out to get me and destroy my country.

As a life coach, I am supposed to radiate sunshine and happily quote Buddha and Ralph Waldo Emerson so my Twitter followers and Facebook friends think I am a never-ending fountain of positive vibes instead of a real, flesh-and-blood person who chooses to see meaning even in the awful. That way I can create a totally fake image that will make them want to hire me so they, too, can bathe in my brilliance and be eternally positive.

Did I miss anything?

What a fun, healthy little exercise in cynicism, ignorance and schadenfreude this has been. I can hardly wait for the next news cycle so I can get out my dark glasses and expand my glass-half-empty repertoire.

Joy, joy, and more joy.

Nancy Colasurdo is a practicing life coach and freelance writer. Her Web site is www.nancola.com. Please direct all questions/comments to FOXGamePlan@gmail.com.