More Innermost Secrets

I find the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard to be soothing.

It’s the music of Kenny G that I find revolting. Don’t get me wrong. I respect a man who can circular breathe, but that doesn’t mean I like what he does with his talent.

Growing up, I told people that my brother and I had a little sister that our parents kept in the basement.

Her name was Christy (or Kristy or Christie or Kristie, seriously, how many ways are there to spell that name?). She was a toddler-sized doll that my Grandma made for my mom because my mom had only boys. Her hair was made of yarn and was only attached to her head along the center seam, like a Mohawk. Naturally, my brother and I enjoyed putting her hair into a Mohawk whenever we could. I’m not sure what my parents thought about us telling people that we kept our sister in the basement, but if my girls did that, I’d think it was simultaneously funny and worrisome

I’m actually a dispossessed Nigerian prince, but whenever I try to get help reclaiming my throne, people act like I’m sending them spam.

Seriously people, just give me your bank account numbers and social security information! It’s a win-win!

Silver is my kryptonite (I may be an old-school vampire).

1991_geo_prizm-pic-3786True story. When it was time to get class rings in high school, every ring we ordered caused some kind of skin reaction. I couldn’t wear gold or silver, no matter how pure. So when we discovered that a class ring was not to be in my future, my parents put the money toward my first car instead. I was much happier with the car. Since then, my wife and I discovered a metal that didn’t react with my skin, so I am able to wear my wedding ring without any issues.

If I ever look as though I am deep in thought, I’m actually just replaying old episodes of Duck Tales in my head.

Duck Tales. Woo Ooh!

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