Your Secret Shame...

I converted to Judaism, and I like gefilte fish.

Lutefisk is the Scandinavian equivalent. Or else it’s used like it was in my mom’s family- you threaten to make the kids eat some if they don’t behave.

Surstromming is another Swedish national practical joke played on tourists. I’m sure it’s quite hilarious to be able to get tourists to eat rotten fish and think it’s some sort of delicacy.

Amen. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think, “I’m in the wrong business.”

Because he wouldn’t name his goddamned horse, already!!
OK, OK, so Redfrost’s was better …

Well, here I am, just so that you won’t be disappointed. :slight_smile: Celyn likes haggis, although I have not eaten any since around the New Year.
Not that I ever cook anything proper, to be honest. Rice and assorted veg shoved into a bowl in the microwave is what I mostly do, so that’s pretty shame-making.

And, just like another poster said, I can spend ages reading but somehow just not take in the information. Not good. :frowning:

Maybe it’s the difference between Australia and the U.S., but I find it interesting that such a question would be seriously considered by a retail person. Even if one is qualified, it seems to me that the store would discourage its staff from responding, for fear that the customer would come back a couple of days later, charred and hairless, with a lawyer in tow: “You told me to build it this way and look at me now! Give me a million dollars for medical bills.” Easier just to brush them off and not take the risk.
My secret shame is that I really enjoy the expression on my cat’s face when I rub his empty ball sack.

I count money too. When you’re doing that, and you get a fifty, put it down and finish counting and then add it back in at the end, OR match it up with a ten for 60 or another 50 for 100. I find it much easier to count in multiples of 20. (as in 20, 40, 60, not 10,30,50,70)


And yet, all I can think of is: “Does he shave his, too?”

I suppose that’s my secret shame.


I baby-talk to my cats. First thing when I walk in the door, I’m all “where’s my widdle kitties, who wants to come purr for me, widdle kitties…”

No, I’m not sure at all.

I am utterly shameless. Not much of a secret, I suppose.

I dance around the house listening and singing along to ABBA.

I think we three are the same person. We just have multiple personalities. Ok, so which one of us is hiding the meds cuz I’d like to take some sometime.

I also baby-talk to my cat, but I live alone so it’s ok.

I was never ashamed of ball-room dancing with myself singing James Blunt songs in falsetto until I turned around and saw my apartment manger (a smoking hot single lady just a couple years older than me) standing in my open doorway silently giggling.

No I mean it’s starting to leak.

Awwwww! I do that too, and openly squee at kitty pics here on the Dope.

I sing along to CDs in my car. I try not to do this when I’m not alone in the car, because I have a truly awful singing voice.

I’m a 50 year old guy who owns his own house, and I’m hopeless at home repairs. There’s a pane of glass that got knocked out of my side door a couple of years ago and it’s still missing. I can’t figure out how to get that damn strip of wood off to get at it without tearing up the door.

And I’m lazy, which doesn’t help much, either.

I’m convinced that I exist just to cancel out my rabid republican brother’s votes.
Also, my mom doesn’t know that I’ve stopped going to church.

I role-play my City of Heroes characters… even the 15-year-old girl. sigh

Mostly, when I’m smiling and nodding and engaging in conversation, what I’m really thinking is, Will you please just leave me the fuck alone?!… regardless of who it is (my wife included, for example). I’ve long been convinced that I’m broken, on some level – that little gizmo that lets everyone else ENJOY this ‘verbal interaction’ crap.

We’re not quite as fond of suing people here as you lot are in the US, but we usually suggest people contact a sparky or qualified electrical technician before playing around with anything involving more than 12 volts or so. Most of the stuff we sell is only geared up for small-scale projects, radios, etc- we don’t have a lot of mains-powered stuff because, basically, our customers are n00bs and we have quite enough trouble explaining basic things like how to plug a DVD player into a TV without getting involved in the finer points of electrical engineering…

I’m an attention whore. Wait, that’s not a secret.

Ummm… ladle? Nope that’s not a secret here either.

Fuck it all. I like the PowerPuff Girls TV show. Blah.