Admissions Department, Part One
So, the wireless died again. And I fixed it all by myself, ALL BY MYSELF, and now I strongly believe that I may be invincible.
Y'all, I probably am.
Because I am invincible, I decided that now would be a good time to come clean on some issues. Because if you're going to make a major pronouncement, like, if you are going to take a load off of your chest and make some SERIOUS ADMISSIONS, PEOPLE, what better place to do that than on the internet? Where everyone including your mother (hi, Mom!) can read them and judge you accordingly, for all time, forever and ever, amen? What better place, indeed! Hello, brilliant idea! Thank you for popping into my head.
So. Here is my list of Dirty, Dirty Secrets that Are About to Not Be Very Secret Anymore. Brace yourselves. I am feeling very proud of myself today.
1. I sing very bad folk songs in the shower. Oh yes, I do. It is all AM Gold, all the time in there, baby. Do not tell El Dukay.
Really, we should not be too worried about El Dukay, who never reads this site anyway, even when I tell him, "Dukay! I wrote about you! Go read!" When I tell him this, he invariably says, "Oh, I will totally read that, sometime in the future when I have nothing to do, even though I am sitting at a computer playing solitaire right now at this exact minute, but I cannot possibly be dragged away because HI, SOLITAIRE is more interesting than you."
Maybe that is not exactly what he says. But it is what his heart says to me.
Anyway, do you like how I managed to totally take all the focus off of my own admission, and place all blame squarely on the shoulders of Dukay, who has nothing to do with singing folk songs in showers? Do you like that? Not only am I invincible, I am also BRILLIANT.
2. Speaking of which, I strongly believe, and will point this out to people (see: Dukay, Dig, Timmy, y'all) that that whole BRILLIANT! marketing campaign that Guinness is doing? WELL. THAT WAS COMPLETELY MY IDEA, ASSHOLES, because DIDN'T I WRITE ABOUT THAT LAST YEAR? HUH? That's RIGHT I did.
You can send me my check, Guinness marketing team. I would also like a new bicycle and an adorable haircut. Get on that.
3. I hate my feet. Feet, I hate you so much.
Feet are not, as a rule, very pretty appendages. But I really hate mine. They are the ugliest feet in the land, and I will not go without shoes even if you pay me money. When El Dukay and I were first dating, we were over at his place, and we started with the kissing (MOM: STOP READING NOW. YOU TOO, AUNT RIE. See, when I say we were "kissing", that means "We were studying in the library.") Anyway, kissing, and you know, and onwards and so forth, and El Dukay tried to take off my shoes, AND I REFUSED.
That is how much I hate my feet. So much, that I was willing to convince a thoroughly perplexed El Dukay that I was a Woman With Issues, who will not TAKE HER SHOES OFF, even when she is in a bed. This disturbed him. He still brings this up. As in,
Self: Dude, did you eat the last frozen pizza?
El Dukay: WHY WOULDN'T YOU TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF THAT TIME? ARE YOU INSANE?
4. I spend a ridiculous amount of money on food that I never actually eat.
I do this every time I go to the grocery store. I cannot leave the grocery store without purchasing eggs, milk, bread, and sandwich meats. And then I never eat them. They sit in the refrigerator or in the pantry, all hopeful and fresh, and I reach past them for Diet Cokes. I kill their hope, the small hopes of these little fresh foods, and ultimately, they give up and grow very sad mold, and must be tossed in the garbage. And then I go to the grocery store and think, "Huh, I'm out of eggs," AND THE CYCLE BEGINS ANEW.
I have some problem wherein I feel like it is wrong if I don't have those staples on hand. Grown up people keep eggs and milk. Grown up people also remember to buy paper towels on occasion, though, and I am ALWAYS forgetting those fuckers.
That's it for now. I feel very naked, having made all of these admissions. I'm sure there are many more, but frankly, I can't think of anything shocking at the moment. Give me time; we'll be drinking tonight, so probably by tomorrow morning, I'll have all KINDS of shit to admit to. Right after I finish singing all of John Denver's Greatest Hits in the shower.
You fill up my senses. Every one of you.