Almost nothing makes me madder than being mad and having no one notice how mad I am.

I also get really mad when people treat other people like garbage.

I hate cleaning out empty yogurt containers.

Sinks full of dirty dishes can never touch my bare hands.

But I will pick up cat poop from the floor using only a tissue.

I can’t burp. So when I get gassy in the upper register, I gurgle a lot and then get uncomfortable.

This is why I am picky about what beer I drink: if it’s mostly carbonation, I can only have one. Sometimes half of one.

This is also why I drink approximately one soda pop per year.

My mouth is crooked.

Once I heard a song on the dance radio station that I just loved. I am ashamed to admit it was by some ugly dude named Pitbull whose video displayed more tits than a field full of milking cows and now I can’t love that song anymore.

I have almost no knowledge of grammar rules. I really think I was away from my desk that day in grade seven.

Sometimes I get this panicked feeling that I have been spelling everything wrong forever and no one has told me.

I like the look of boy short style underwear, but all that fabric bunching up in my business! I would rather wear bikini briefs.

I enjoy creating analogies about the creative process more than I enjoy engaging in the creative process, unless one counts creating analogies as part of the creative process.

Sometimes I forget how tall I am.

With a couple of notable exceptions, I just really don’t like most small dogs. Their constant excitement makes me nervous.

I love Cher, mostly because she’s an alto so I can sing along.