That may be true. But the REAL question is, are you willing to go public with them ... and by "go public," I mean, PUT YOUR NAME ON THEM.
One reader (and fellow blogger), Ricky Anderson (who is totally confusing because his Twitter handle is @Arthur2Sheds and his WordsWithFriends name contains the name Bob, so in my head I call him "Ricky-Bobby," like the character in Talladega Nights, which he is just now finding out) ... ANYWAY, Ricky was all like, "Oh yeah. I'll write some. It won't take me any time at all. I'll get 'em right to you."
And then when he sent them, I was like, "These aren't really EMBARRASSING." And he was like, "I know. They're more like funny." And I was like, "THAT'S NOT THE NAME OF THE SERIES."
But I like Ricky-Bobby. And he's right; they are funny. And I'm on vacation, so I'm gonna give him a break. But if he doesn't disclose his ACTUAL cholesterol number in the Comments (#4), I'm going to call him names. Because saying it's the level of "someone 20 years his senior" is not the same as saying it's 305. Three-oh-five is an Uncomfortable Truth, Internet.
Without further ado, I give you .... Ricky-Bobby's "Uncomfortable" Truths:
1. I am horrible at directions. I can get lost in my own driveway. I know as a male I'm supposed to have superhuman ninja compass skills, but I don't so I got married instead. My wife's the ninja.2. I'm ultra competitive. Like, more than you. Unless you're better at something than me. Then I don't care and don't want to play because that game's stupid anyway.3. We've lived in our current house for over five years. I've done the dishes every night for over five years. I still don't know where some of that stuff goes.4. I'm officially middle-aged. My doctor told me I have the cholesterol levels of someone 20 years my senior and can no longer enjoy certain foods, such as food. I need to find a fatter doctor. Fat doctors aren't as judgey.5. I am terrible at keeping in touch. If we're friends, and you move away... I assume you'll call if you need anything. Or get married. Or have a kid. Or die. Whatever - good luck. Do you keep in touch, or are you a callous monster like me?
And please, Internet, show him some love in the Comments. Or some judgment. Or some commiseration. Show him SOMETHING. Let him know you care.
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