OK, OK, OK, I confess … that Hal Briston did it!!!
Oh, yea, and I’m also Sparticus. And Brian. And so’s my wife.
Gotta get back to you on that… Just doing a few revisions for the new edition, which should be out for Xmas. I take PayPal.
I’m really not proud of this…
I was playing poker with O.J., Robert Blake, Scott Peterson, and Michael Jackson on every single one of the nights in question.
They’ll never make me testify, though.
Tikki took the cookie from the cookie jar!
Wasn’t me. Couldn’t be.
Then who?
Scott took the cookie from the cookie jar!
(repeat endlessly)
I confess:
I removed the label from my mattress while taping Monday night football with the express written permission of ABC but not the NFL.
And I didn’t steal no bike neither!
Innocent, yes! But of what?
Oog. I ate a blue pill once. In an underground club in the Hague. experiences flashback
Oh, and that reminds me, I didn’t pay for the subway in Rotterdam.
Okay, okay…I confess.
I am not God.
I do exist.
And my shrink keeps telling me to leave all of those people alone.
He shot the sheriff. I shot the Deputy.
Serious confession? My parents were on vacation and I stole my Dad’s last propylactic so I could shag my girlfriend. 
It’s not just my shrink who keeps telling me to leave all of these people alone. Damn cops 
:dubious:
Don’t worry Floyd you’re safe from my stalking 
I can’t get up to your bedroom…
I also munch raw cheese slices and eat mayonnaise straight from the jar
I’m on my second glass of wine.
And I got all fired up in the pit a few moments ago. It was the Pinot Grigio.
I did it. I took the Lindburg baby.
When I was in college, I once got a girl drunk while remaining sober just so I could have sex with her. In my defense, she probably wouldn’t have slept with me had she not been intoxicated.
I copied Mary Sue Flimkin’s homework while in the seventh grade.
At the grocery store yesterday, I told a pushy and loud woman that she had sprayed on a bit too much testosterone cologne.
Eek. Verbally inappropriate in public. Gotta tell my shrink about that one.
I came up with an intricate system of head-scratches, foot-shuffles, and taps which communicated answers on a monthly math competition to my teammates, who all sat in the same file as me. I would solve the problem and send the answer backwards up the file. We won the competition, and I had the highest score on my team (because the team had agreed to only take answers for the first four questions). We only did it in one competition, but the margin of victory from that win sent us to States, where the seating was :eek: random.
Ha! You won’t feel so good once Terry Tate, Office Linebacker comes down on your butt! “That’s not your cake! That’s Simone’s cake!”
I must confess, I LOVE those ads.
Plus, I’ve got Judge Crater out in my rose garden. Right under a lovely patch of floribundas.