filed under: "things I wish even I didn't know about myself"

There are a few things about myself I'm not particularly proud of. I am by no means a pristine person. Oh, I may pretend to be untarnished, don't get me wrong, but when I confess the following to you, I need you to remember this about me. OK? Because you are special to me. In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and say we're connected (What's that? Did I just say that to that one over there, you ask? And that one? The one over in the corner? I did. OK? I did. But you? You are the mostest special!).

I feel like I'm taking a huge risk here, but I feel it binds us to each other when we share our innermost secrets, and I want to give you this gift today. You take this in your hands and treat it with love and respect, OK? Because to lose you would hurt me deeply. Underneath this tarnished shell beats the heart of a good and honest woman, so your tenure with me is strong.

---- deep breath ----

Here we go...

Monday afternoon I was sitting on the couch, catching up with some emails, chatting a bit with Nan, and half listening to the daily news. Because the news has essentially become an episode of Entertainment Tonight with a weather segment, I wasn't surprised to hear the anchors cut to a package about Britney Spears' custody hearing that day. Because I must know every aspect of every celebrity's life whether I like it or not, I glanced from the computer screen to the television, and caught this brief glimpse of Kevin Federline and immediately I thought, "Oh, Kevin...you sexaaay, sexaay beast!"

I know. Trust me. I know. I was all "Kevin Federline?! I think Kevin Federline is hot?!" But remember what I said up there at the beginning. I'm not a proud person. Here's a pen. Add this confession to the list.

Then look at him. I see that picture of him and I think, "Kevin (because I call him Kevin), if you were clean and had that longish hair and, um, maybe didn't talk, I would allow myself to do you (because he likes it when I say "do you." He likes it better when I say I would allow myself to gift him with the carnal delights)." Because you know, you JUST know, Kevin Federline is probably a fuh-fuh-fuhreak in the bed and I am not above some fuh-reak, especially in the pretend realm.

Bear in mind I'm not talking Cornrow Kevin, Do Rag Kevin (though here's a second "I am not proud" confession - I'd dilly dally with CK before I would DRK because seriously, no one, and I mean no one, looks hot in a do rag), or Droopy Drawer Kevin. I'm full on Frat boy Kevin. Or Accountant Kevin (even if he does look a bit like Weird Al in his White and Nerdy video).

I don't want to have his babies or gift him with cars or careers. I just want to popo a little zao with him and then kick him to the curb, and remember him fondly when I see his face pop up on the daily news.

---- and exhale ----

OK. So now you know one of my dirtiest little secrets. Believe me. I can see where knowing this can make things uncomfortable between us for awhile. I don't share this with you without some shame. Just remember, none of us are completely pristine, so it's not even worth pretending to be. If you feel my little confession here has released something in you that makes you want to spill something dark and twisted about yourself, feel free to do so in comments.

Because we're connected, you and me, and Kevin and I would never judge you.