these are my confessions...

• I think Train's "Drops of Jupiter" is one of the greatest songs ever written.

• I don't understand a single thing about any of the games on "The Price is Right." When they rattle off the rules for each game? That's Chinese to me, my friends. Showcase Showdown is like one giant word problem and I'm stuck on a train that was supposed to be traveling 140 miles per hour when it leaves New York at 2 a.m., but instead, it's stalled on the tracks.

• Speaking of trains, I'm totally not kidding about Drops of Jupiter.

• Also, in my entire life, I've probably only watched a total of five hours of The Price is Right, so it's not like I dwell on the fact that I don't get it, but I seriously don't get it.

• You know how sometimes when you were a kid, you'd fake being sick so you could stay home from school and watch game shows and General Hospital? Yeah, well, I watched Card Sharks and then played John Lennon's Double Fantasy on my parent's stereo and sang aloud.

• I'm no one's idea of a singer, but friends, I can KILL at some Card Sharks.

• I surreptitiously erase television shows from the DVR that my Tool Man records to make room for programs I'd enjoy. This explains how I got him to watch Glee with me.

• Shhhh - Tool Man totally loves Glee.

• "She listens like spring and she talks like June." That? That's poetry! That's embracing the English language like a secret lover and caressing the words until they melt into pools of awesome.

• I enjoy using words like 'surreptitiously' when really, 'secretly' would've been easier to use and wouldn't have required looking up the proper spelling. I don't have the ability to melt words like one Mr. Pat Monahan.

• Who's Pat Monahan, you ask? Lead singer of Train, yo.

• No. I know you want me to be kidding, but I'm not kidding. I LOVE that song.

• I want to lick melted chocolate ice cream off Pat Monahan's chin, risking the possibility I might cut my tongue on the scar he has there.

• Speaking of DVRs, I recorded The Strangers almost a year ago during one of those free premium channel weekends our satellite provider offered and, even though I know exactly how it starts and ends and that it's lame, I've not yet watched it because I refuse to do so when Tool Man isn't home to scare away potential intruders with his snoring.

• Still speaking of people I want to lick things off of, I have a totally bizarre and rather questionable attraction to Russell Brand. That's not a joke.

• Why is a bad joke like an unsharpened pencil? It has no point. That IS a joke. It is also a metaphor for this particular post.

• From time to time, my random celebrity crushes obviously skew a wee bit older than Joe Jonas.

• Speaking of eating things - and not that I want you licking things off me any time soon or anything - I have a habit of spilling something on myself every time I sit down for a meal. Every. Time.

• You're singing Drops of Jupiter in your head right now while you read this, aren't you? Tell me, did Venus blow your mind?

• I have a long simmering hatred of Internet abbreviations and acronyms. They don't make me LOL.

• There's a part of me I don't like that wants to see MacGruber when it's released this summer. This is a rather unfortunate desire considering the last grown up movie I got to see in a theater was Terminator Salvation a year ago. I'm not altogether fond of the part of me who made me go to that, either.

• Drops of Jupiter ranks in my top 10 list of songs I've deemed Driveway Songs, which are songs that, if they come on the radio when you're arriving home after an exhaustive absence or even just a quick hop across the block for milk, compel (see also - mandate) you to remain in your vehicle while the song plays in its entirety. Although not necessary, it's strongly suggested you sing along loudly and with much feeling while also using whatever means are available to you within the vehicle (the steering wheel, your child's stomach, an empty pop bottle, a crushed bags of potato chips) as instruments.

• In addition to the poetic opus that is Drops of Jupiter, my list of Driveway Songs includes, but is not limited to, the following - She Talks to Angels; Band On The Run (see also Live and Let Die, original recording); Paradise by the Dashboard Lights (only to be carried out if you've not consumed a copious amount of liquid prior to your arrival home); Mr. Roboto; Back in Black; Land Down Under; I'm Too Sexy; No Rain; Surrender; and any in the official Bon Jovi Trifecta of Sonic Perfection (patent pending) that is Living On A Prayer/Bad Medicine/Lay Your Hands On Me.

• For reasons still unknown to me, I continue to watch both Desperate Housewives and 24.

• Remember way back in 2001 (interesting trivia - Train's Drops of Jupiter was released in March 2001. Can you believe it?! Time flies!) when I told you I hadn't yet watched The Strangers because quasi-scary things scare the bejesus out of me? It's that very reason that I must quickly turn the channel or loudly hum a happy song (guess...) when commercials for the Nightmare on Elm Street remake air. One, two, the kid from The Bad News Bears is coming for you...

• I feel bad for the toys my kids no longer play with. Seriously. Except for the Bionicles, which just look mean and could, assuming they were real, possibly drill my brains out, which is not a metaphor.
  

• Any time I'm outside, regardless of the weather conditions or the time of day, I wear sunglasses. Yes, that means I wear my sunglasses at night.

• Oddly - and to be rectified post-haste - my list of Driveway Songs doesn't include Corey Hart's tribute to nocturnal ocular shields.

• I could have just as easily said 'quickly.'

• As well as Sunglasses at Night.

• I loathe the word 'nocturnal.'

• I still own Corey Hart's First Offense LP.

• I don't know about you, but I can imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken, my best friend always sticking up for you (because she's nice like that) even when I know she knows you're wrong. I can also imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance, five hour phone conversations, the best soy latte that you've ever had...and me. Yes. I CAN imagine it, and I don't like the idea of not having any of that. Especially the whole 'me' part. And if you can say you can't, well, then, head back to the milky way, my friend, because you're alien to me.