(those previous installments are where you might have learned that I used to have a rat tail haircut and occasionally stuffed chicken fajita meat in my pockets when I worked at McDonald’s.)
Anyway, time for a new installment. I’ll share mine and then you can share one of yours…
The Confession Booth, Volume 3
+ If I hear two people talking about sports I immediately assume I know more than they do.
+ I will wear the jeans I have on today another 12 times this month. I will wash them once. Maybe.
+ I can’t stand it when people insist on backing into a parking spot. Drives me nuts. I understand why you’re doing it. You’re taking a little extra time now to save yourself some time later. I get it. But here’s the thing: Backing out is more difficult that pulling, so if you’ve got to choose between backing out from a tight space into an open parking lot or backing up into a tight space, why don’t you choose the former? Pull in to the tight space (quickly) and then back out into the open parking lot (quickly) when you leave. But no…you’ve got to back up into the tight space (not so quickly) just so you can pull out quickly when you leave. It does not save time!!!! (maybe this should have been an angry letter instead?)
+ I don’t know the difference between St. Elsewhere and St. Elmo’s fire. And I don’t want you to explain it to me.
+ On a related note, I’m not quite sure on the difference between Van Morrison and Morrissey either. And ditto on not caring about it. (Seriously, if you try to explain it to me in the comments I won’t read it on principle.)
+ I hate tablespoons. When I open the silverware draw and all the teaspoons are gone I sneer at that lazy stack of tablespoons before begrudgingly grabbing one. Tablespoons are the oaf of spoons.
+ A big pet peeve on mine is when I’m talking to a friend and they refer to their dad as “dad” in the conversation instead of “my dad”. For instance they might say, “Yeah yesterday dad came over to help me put up some shelves in the garage.” What’s the deal with that? Listen, my brother wouldn’t say “…yesterday my dad came over…” because we share the same dad. So you don’t get to chop out the “my” when referring to your dad. He’s not our dad (unless there’s something you know that you’re not telling me) so you have to refer to him as “my dad”.
(I called my friend Chad Gibbs out on this a few months ago and I think it did irreparable harm to our friendship. I am a jerk.)
+ There are certain people on our street who fly down the road at unsafe speeds whenever they drive by. We live in a residential development and they’re pushing 50mph just so they can pull in their driveway 4 seconds sooner putting my kids’ safety in jeopardy. It ticks me off so much, that if I had a missile launcher in my hands at the moment they drove by, I would probably shoot it at their car. Thankfully I do not own a missile launcher.
+ Sometimes when I’m by myself and I get really excited about something (I get a fantastic email or finally figure out something that’s been bothering me) I’ll pretend I am an excited NFL referee and give and over-the-top “First Down” call complete with hand signal.
I know…I have issues.
Okay, your turn to step into the Confession Booth.
Remember, this is a safe place.