Things You Don’t Know You Don’t Know About Me
100 things in one read is way too many for you to find out about me. Let’s keep this short, sweet, and professional. No kissing on the mouth:
Despite my current bare-bones profile, I do have a face.
I don’t think I’ll miss hockey as much as I’ll miss completely forgetting about hockey, then being pleasantly surprised when I stumble upon a game on ESPN on a cold midwinter night.
Speaking of ESPN, if I’m watching TV and I flip past billiards, I will flip back.
I think full-screen DVDs are a grave misuse of the format.
If there’s milk left in the carton, and it smells just slightly, slightly sour, I’ll swish it around a bit, hoping that the milk at the very bottom will have retained more freshness. Or, at least to homogenize the spoiling.
My favorite word (non-curse) is “succulent.” I can taste what it sounds like. That, or “catechetical”, exclusively for its sound.
I’ve never killed an animal, but a buddy of mine and I, when we were real, real little, found a dying bird with a broken wing. We put a Band-aid on it. I suppose I have killed an animal. Birdslaughter?
I love rock music from the 60s and 70s, but I don’t care for the Doors at all.
I once associated Dave Grohl’s scream and God and I wasn’t kidding.
I wouldn’t mind dating a girl named Misty. She might be a stupid bitch, but I think it’d be subconsciously refreshing.
Oh, I’ll BUY vegetables. I’ll just ignore them until they’re no good to eat anymore. Then I’ll buy more of them.
Southern accents, on women, make me melt. British accents, on women, make me combust.
My foot is probably bigger than your head.
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