Let Me Confess...

Let me make one thing clear right now. I'm not Catholic, and so I don't believe in going to a priest to confess. The last time I said "Bless me father, for I have sinned" was in grade 12 and it was Halloween and my English teacher came to school dressed as a priest, but that's another story for another time. They say that confession is good for the soul, and so I'm going to get a few things off my chest, so to speak. Some of what I say below might be shocking and/or disturbing. You have been warned.

I own Aquarium, the debut CD from Danish pop group Aqua. I got it as one of my 'nearly free' discs from Columbia House. And I have listened to it. More than once.

I watch Dennis Miller Live regularly, but that's not actually what I'm confessing. The confession involves the fact that I understand over 90% of the arcane references Miller makes, but I don't have a writing staff of six. At least not yet.

I once hit a cat with my car. Stupid thing ran right out into the street and under my wheels. It never had a chance. It didn't die instantly, because I saw it flailing about on the road in my rear view mirror. I circled the block, but by the time I was back around someone was out checking on the cat, so I didn't stop. I'm sorry. I feel really bad about it.

I like uncooked ramen noodles. Just smash the package against the table a few times, then open the package and eat the pieces. Zero effort snack food.

I've participated in games of Invisible Chain (It's really simple if you aren't familiar with it. One person stands on either side of the road acting as if they are holding a chain across the road and wait for a car to come along. Hilarity ensues). In doing so I've been yelled at by motorists.

I've told jokes about Helen Keller. Including the one about why her dog ran away.

I've watched The Sopranos. People rave about it being the best show on television. I'm not sure what all the fuss is about.

When I moved in here I kept forgetting to buy toothpaste, so I just used whatever tube of toothpaste was on the bathroom counter for about two weeks.

You know those rolls of cookie dough you can get that you cut up and bake into cookies? I've eaten the raw dough. It's actually pretty good.

I have driven through quiet residential neighbourhoods late at night (we're talking after 2 am here) and honked my horn for no apparent reason.

I use the term "Bling bling" an inordinate amount for a 26 year old white guy. I don't even know what it means, but that hasn't stopped me.

Okay, I think that's enough of that for now. It feels good to have some of this off my chest. It also feels a little ridiculous. Try not to judge me too harshly.