I'm pretty sure any of these admissions could get me sent straight to one of Dubya's firing squads, but, hey, I feel I owe you people the truth.
Sometimes I pass out at my desk and my dearly beloved loves to take a picture of that.
Sometimes I listen to Neil Diamond. Holly Holy. And James Taylor. And Barbara Striesand.
Nearly every tooth in my head has a filling.
I love sporks, but only if they're plastic from some fast food place or some shit like that. I wouldn't trust a metal spork, its maker or its user.
After I fry bacon, I pour the resulting fat in a coffee can and put it in the fridge. Got about two years worth of stratified oink fat in there as we speak. Sometimes I use it for stuff I cook. Potato soup is one thing. Sauteeing onions. Can't think of what else right now.
After my dad died, I took his on-the-go tool box and set it under my desk. It's still there. That was almost four years ago.