I cheat at Solitaire.
I’m addicted to People magazine and get all excited every Friday when I get home from work to find it in my mailbox. I always do the crossword puzzle, and if I don’t know the answer, I’ll look it up on imdb.com just so I can fill in the correct answer. I’m not sure what that says about me, but it can’t be good.
I’m completely passive aggressive. For example: Every time Boy comes home, I fill my empty refrigerator with food, and it’s mostly organic which causes Boy to give me a look that loosely translates into, “I’ll bet you believe that whole conspiracy theory that fluoride’s some government plot to control our minds, don’t you?” Then, before he heads back to the dorm, I pack up all that food and send him back with it, because “it’ll just go to waste here.”
For some reason, I bake a lot of muffins.
I don’t eat muffins. As a matter of fact, I don’t like sweet anything in the mornings. I don’t even add sugar to my coffee. But every so often at around midnight, I’ll find myself driving around looking for a 24-hour market that carries Pepperidge Farm Triple Layer Chocolate cakes. Those I’ll eat frosting first from corner-to-corner by myself in under thirty minutes flat before I wash it all down with half a bag of Backyard BBQ Kettle Brand Potato Chips.
I’m a stacker. I have a bunch of stacks. It may look disorganized, but I can assure you, I know where everything is. If you ever dropped by my house unannounced you’d see them. If you come over and don’t see them, all my stacks have been consolidated into one large stack and it’s in my oven, so don’t go in there. And for God’s sake, don’t preheat.
I change my mind a lot, but I’m never wrong.
I sometimes like things just because they sound like good things to like.
I’m the most easy-going person in the world, so long as everything’s going my way.
I secretly believe all my own hype. And, no, I won’t get over myself.