In the interest of full disclosure, I offer the following semi-embarrassing revelations:
#1) I like chick-flicks. Now don't get me wrong, I still enjoy bro-shows as much as the next guy. But more and more, I find that I actually like sappy, sentimental movies. Tonight I went and saw "Memoirs of a Geisha" and it was freakin' unbelievable. Three simple words: BETTER... THAN... KONG. I am so ashamed.
#2) I like Christian rock music. We're not talking Michael "The Mullet" McClean stuff. We're talking electric guitars, a thumping base line, and song titles like "Salvation Street" or "Jesus Freak." I even have it as a pre-set on my car radio. Several years ago, I was given a CD with a mix of Christian rock on it. Every once in a while you can still see me playing air drums and wailing out, "In the beginning was the Word." Can I get an Amen!
#3) I have a disgustingly large doll collection. There, I said it. After picking yourself up from off the ground and wiping away the tears of laughter, read on for an explanation. My grandmother collects Madame Alexander dolls, the collectible kind of porcelain doll that you can't play with. (Uhh, not that I'd want to play with them even if I could. Ah crap.) Well anyway, every Christmas since I was born, Grammie gave all her grandkids a doll. This year was actually the first year that I don't remember getting a dolly for Christmas. That's probably a good thing because we were running out of room on my shelf, uh, I mean in the garage. Seriously, they'll make good Ebay fodder eventually, but for now, just having a doll collection, even one that just sits out in boxes, is yet another reason for me to hate myself.
In the words of the Simpson's Comic Book Guy: "Please don't tell people the way I live."