For some reason I think you need to know these things about me. Today's confession will most likely be the oddest one you'll hear in a while. For those of you who know me, my life is somewhat less organized than your average working male living in a metropolitan area. This less-than-organized lifestyle permeates through all aspects of my life, whether it be cleaning my apartment, job security, replacing clothing, you name it. Some call it lazy. I justify it as quelling my greed. Either way - What I want to focus on today is my sock drawer. After doing laundry, I put all of my socks, both black and white, in a drawer, leaving me with an NAACP acceptable mix of footwear. Each and every morning as I'm getting ready for work, I need to find 2 black socks that match. Over the years I've collected an assortment of black socks, which, if I had to guess, amounts to 7 or 8 different varieties. Some are heavy, some are a lighter shade of black, and others have yellow near the toes. Each pair, in my mind, is workplace acceptable. And each and every morning as I'm digging through that drawer looking for a pair for the day, I eventually hear Mikey Walsh's voice in my head. Much like his Goonie adventure, my day begins with the words:
"I think I have a match. I'm sure of it! The lighthouse, the rock, and the restaurant all fit the doubloon."
It happens every day. And much like a crack whore, I can't seem to stop it. Like I said, for some reason, I think you need to know this about me. That, perhaps, knowing what a sad, pathetic loser I am, it will make you feel a little better about yourself.
Some guy feels like he needs to correct everything we've learned in school. On that note, I'm saddened to report that the brown note is still a myth.
My car's for sale in case you know anyone that might be interested.