Don’t be shy. We all have confessions to make. I don’t mean the kind that might get you into trouble, or cause undue embarrassment — feel free to keep those secret — but rather, the silly type, whereby people might question your judgment and taste, but not your mental stability. Heh.
I’ll start. You continue, k? One or two will be fine; y’all don’t have to appear as messed up as myself…
- I just don’t think Jerry Seinfeld is funny. (Sorry Stoney & Wendell.) The whiny, semi-loser, smirking Jewish guy with the expressionless eyes just doesn’t do it for me, as it apparently did for millions of others.
- I love the song “Stacy’s Mom” by Fountains of Wayne. I play it in the truck all the time, volume on 28.
- When I was little, I had a nightmare in which Abraham Lincoln was under my bed, and he grabbed my ankles. The horror has never left me. As a result (every night since 1968), I yank my feet up into my bed as fast as I can.
- I refuse to open a public door without grabbing my shirt or sweater sleeve and covering my hand with it so I don’t have to touch the handle or knob. When I am in short sleeves, I have been known to stand there, trying to figure out an alternate plan, or trying to jimmy it open without the use of any fingers. I look ridiculous.
- There are certain words I cannot bear to hear or say. I’m like the Knights who say “Ni.”
So yeah. Spill it. What makes you certifiable? I covet your responses. #6: I love to say that I “covet” this or that. I love the word; it has a nice mouth feel.
Fink out (of her mind, I know).