These aren’t really dirty little secrets just stuff you may not know about me.
I was tagged by Kim a few days ago and owed her for not getting on my ass about the poetry tag I blew off a while ago.
Please pay her a visit and tell her I’m honestly trying to do right here.
(Aside from the fact she has an awesome blog and is one hell of a great writer)
Here then, are my 8 (11) “secrets”

• Purple is my favorite color.
• I would take a bullet for my wife and daughters any day of the week.
• I can tell the difference between a Cuban cigar and a counterfeit.
• Dated two women on the same night in the same place.
  (Yeah, I’m a humdinger. Just ask my wife.)
• Eaten 12+ pickled eggs on a dare.
  (I think the actual count was @18 but that’s another story)
• I wear a purple “MindStrong” bracelet on my right wrist for Alzheimer’s research and may wear it for the rest of my life. (obviously in memory of my mom and dad)
• I have a dark side that no one will ever know about.
  (Unless I start writing fiction.
• I make really amazing homefries. (once again, ask my wife)
• I’ve never once made a disparaging comment about my wife in conversation. Ever.
• I hate squirrels and try hard to flatten any grey furry-tailed creature brave enough to run in front of my truck. I’m still waiting for my first kill.
  (And the little bastards still owe me for about 500 bucks in birdseed)
• I love shaving my coconut. The feeling of putting moisturizer on my skull afterwards is very close to absolute nirvana. Just ask my buddy Evyl.

That’s about it folks.
I have more secrets but I’ll hold you in suspense for now.
And yes, I drink directly from the milk carton at 3:15 A.M. after a trip to the bathroom.
Feel free to add a secret of your own in your comments.

~m

I go to a particular place for lunch several times a week.
While I’m not on a first name basis with the manager, he feels he knows me well enough to chat me up sometimes.

The other day he said, “Hey, you’re a good looking married guy judging from the wedding ring on your finger. You have a lot of women hittin’ on ya?”

I turned around to see who he was talking to when I realized he was talking to me.

He said, “I’ll tell ya man, this wedding ring is a freekin’ babe magnet! They won’t leave me alone! How about you?”

What you need to understand is this guy is somewhat geeky and has roughly 60lbs. on me, never mind the fact that he dresses like a slob with flecks of todays’ special all over his shirt.
Nice.
He’s what you would call ‘a tad rough around the edges’.

Now, I’m no slave to fashion but I usually wear a nice ironed Polo shirt, khakis and a Harris Tweed suit coat, I’m not Rockefeller mind you but I look decent enough.
Never have I ever been ‘hit on’ like this guy.

In my mind, I gave a perfunctory whiff of my underarms and general body aroma (I say ‘aroma’ because I usually smell like whatever cologne I’m wearing that day. Truth be told, I had a flamboyantly gay customer tell me one day that I smelled ‘delicious’. Now if that’s not a compliment, I don’t know what is. I was wearing Paul Sebastian cologne) and there was nothing negative in terms of overall fragrance, albeit a hint of cigar smoke.
I aromatically ripen after five o’clock.

“No.” I said, “No hits today.”

“Man,” he said, “I’ve had like three women asking around today! Three!”

”They must love you for your massive Columbo, “ I laughed, nodding in the direction of the frozen yogurt machine.

“Oh, yeah man!” he said, chuckling as I walked away with my lunch.

My pheromones must be on sabbatical or something.
All I seem to attract are guys that think I smell delicious, squirrels that want me solely for my food and bible toting assclowns that want to talk to me about Jesus.
Maybe it’s time for some new cologne.
I’ll have to ask my buddy in the Food Court what he wears because I hear the women are all over him like graffiti on an abandoned freight train.

~m

ps.
My wife selected the picture.
I was emotionally torn between pics of Jack Palance and Harry Dean Stanton

I had to laugh this morning when I counted @14 bottles of hair products littering the shower stall.
There’s Luminouscolor glaze, Berry Tea & Orange flower conditioner, coconut conditioner, Aussie 3 minute miracle, brightening shampoo (huh?) and we even have some stuff called Ana Banana shampoo/ conditioner.
The list goes on but I’ll stop there.
And this doesn’t even include all the mousses, gels, sprays and numerous detanglers in the bathroom closet; this is stuff I will never use.
btw- What the hell is a root lifter and would I really want to put that shit on my head? Sounds to me like a useless and possibly detrimental genetic consequence.
I have no hair whatsoever and it makes me laugh.
Hysterically.
Maybe I will never understand the hair thing with women.
They’re never happy.
Evvvver.
Even after spending more than a weeks worth of groceries on a haircut from a guy whose name I can’t pronounce, they look in the mirror and sigh, “Oh, I just don’t know.
What do you think?”
My wife gives me the ‘one of these days, I will kill you’ stare when I stupidly reply,
“Oh, you got your haircut?”
Maybe as a man I’m not supposed to understand all the hardware either with blowdryers, straighteners, bobby pins, brightly colored hairclips and blowdrying brushes that look more like martial arts weapons than implements used to curl and dry the locks.
Get that stuff away from me.
I need two things in the shower: a bar of soap and a razor.
None of this strawberry/kiwi/mango body wash crap.
I’m a guy, not a freekin’ fruit salad.
Anymore than that and I’ll just get confused anyway.
Bald is beautiful, man.
Or maybe I’m just too damn stupid to have hair in the first place . . .

~m