Bless me blog-readers, for I have sinned. It's been 27 years since my last confession, and - waitasec. That's the wrong type of confession.
|Warm it up, Kris!|
Instead, here are slightly embarrassing ones.
- I rap to myself a lot. Yup. Rap. I make up lyrics as I go. What's that... freestyling? No one in the world will ever hear proof of this, but I'm actually pretty good for someone who doesn't listen to rap. I'm a kickass rhymer. Don't mock me.
- I imagine specific conversations with people, usually scenes of me confronting someone who I'm pissed at or feel general hatred toward. Sometimes these conversations keep repeating over and over in my head. Funnily enough, I actually ended up sort of confronting someone once and, completely unexpectedly, said pretty much the exact words I imagined myself saying. It was almost as if I practiced a script. Come think of it, a few more four letter words would've made it better. And maybe a kick to the shins.
- I hate talking on the phone, unless you're my boyfriend. Is that weird? Yeah. Probably.
- I've always wanted to be on TV, but never did anything about it. And no, YouTube videos don't count.
- This isn't a confession, since I've said it before. But still. I want people to follow me around, saying "Warm it up, Kris!"
Yes, I am a loser... but let's blame this song. (It's the only song that even remotely has my name in it, so it's my only option. Gosh golly gee, thanks Kris Kross!)
"Wrap it up, Kris!"
I'm about to. Bye.