5 Things You May Not Want to Know About Me
That’s right, I like hearing about the things that others like or admire in me. But who doesn’t, right? Perhaps if we gave each other more compliments and not just consistently looking to give our “constructive criticism” every chance we get, the world would be a happier, less judgmental place and not everyone would be so reliant on their Prozac prescriptions. Tell me that you like my hair, or that I have a nice ass, or just about anything that could be considered as flattering and I’ll be your friend forever.
2. I’m vain.
Yep. I sneak peeks at my passing profile in store windows and check my hair in the rear view mirror of my car; I flex my biceps in the shower so I can poke approvingly at my muscles; and I even give myself the Full Monty from time to time whenever I happen to be changing in front of a full length mirror. Hey, if nobody is going to compliment me then I’ll find excuses to compliment myself, dammit!
3. I like the smell of my own farts.
In fact, I even rank them regularly on a scale of 1-10 in respect to their overall richness, meaty texture, as well as the degree of audible resonation they create. I take pride in my farts the way any craftsman takes pride in their handiwork. When it comes to emitting gaseous clouds of sulphury toxins I’m a regular Rembrandt, where the very air around us becomes my own personal canvas to paint upon …so to speak.
4. I love my crap television.
What can I say? Whether it’s Judge Judy, Myth Busters, any Reality Show, or even just a repeat of The Golden Girls, I just love watching my crap television shows. I don’t watch television to “learn stuff”. I want to feel some sort of penitence for wasting my time sitting on the couch staring mindlessly at the boob tube. Hell, if it’s informational or could be considered as educational in any way I’ll inevitably flip the channel quicker than a closet Conservative. I work hard enough as it is during the day that I don’t want to come home to watch any detailed episodes of CSI, House, or any of the tired Home Renovation bullshit that may require me to think. They’re too stressful and too thought-provoking. By the time I get home I just want to relax and let my brain switch off until it literally oozes out my ear.
5. I like country music.
Now let’s be very clear here: I don’t approve of that jangly cosmopolitan New Country nonsense you hear nowadays; I’m talking about the good ‘ol fashioned rhythmic twing-twang of Old Country. You know, back when country singers didn’t necessarily have to wear ten gallon hats to advertise themselves as a country-western star or feel the impulse to marry a struggling B-list actress. I’m talking about the good ‘ol days when country stars sung songs strictly about whiskey, loose women and the natural love that exists between a man and his horse. There was no Achy-Breaky Heart, no Boot Scootin’ Boogie’s, and especially no Cotton-Eyed Joe’s of any kind. Any country singer worth his chewing tobacco will have a serious drinking problem, been divorced about a dozen times and have at least one semi-autobiographical song about being in jail. Anyone missing any one of these criteria is just a country and western poser in my opinion.
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