Sins of the Writer

posted by David Cloninger, 7/22/2009 08:54:00 PM

“I confess.”
------ THE ENGLISH BEAT

I understand the real meaning of Prince’s “Little Red Corvette.”

I didn’t tip that Waffle House waitress because she forgot the extra slice of cheese on my double order of hash browns.

I told that girl I was lead singer and rhythm guitarist – not entirely untrue – for a touring band (Sweater Meat) just so she would kiss me on New Year’s Eve.

I attended Boots ‘n’ Bikinis Night at Charlotte’s Whisky River. (Note to self: NEVER HAVE A DAUGHTER).

I kept a stash of Klondike bars that were past their expiration date in the freezer at Food Lion for mid-shift snacking.

The chair in my home office was stolen from outside of a dormitory cafeteria at 3 in the morning. Yes, there was alcohol involved.

I have cheated on my taxes (but never on a woman).

I own the movie “Showgirls.”

One time I asked a priest where Cain’s wife came from and he quit the seminary a week later.

I view the speed limit as more of a suggestion.

I ripped the tag off my mattress.

I voted against Obama.

During a high school production of “To Kill A Mockingbird,” I missed a cue and a very important plot point because I was asking one of the extras if she’d go out with me.

I should have taken a cab many, many times.

I once pushed a Port-A-John off a hill. It tumbled for a while.

I have gone skinny-dipping and not by myself.

I have smoked an entire Camel.

I have said four-letter words.

I participated with three others in turning a Ford Focus on its side, but the guy shouldn’t have parked over two spaces.

I used the excuse, “I’m on deadline,” to get out of a speeding ticket.

I have graffitied.

Body-ruining tattoos have a certain appeal once you begin to reach significant milestones.

Before you judge me, it was a really nice shirt and I still wear it.

At last count, I had violated seven of the original Ten Commandments. The other three were tough decisions.

When we were apart that one summer, I flirted several times with the girl processing film at Eckerd.

I’ve ordered extra bread at restaurants with the express purpose of sneaking it out of there, taking it home and eating it later.

I drank beer before I turned 21.

At one time, I was really into professional wrestling.

I used a crib sheet for an exam once, but why is economics required for a print journalism degree?

I shot a guy in the chest with a paintball after he’d already surrendered.

I have stood behind Erin Andrews on a sideline. I wasn’t thinking about football.

In order to get my security deposit back, I once told a landlord that the oven door was always missing.

I once spat into my palm before a post-game handshake. We lost 58-10.

I know that the Starland Vocal Band’s “Afternoon Delight” was not written about ice cream.

One time I was working as a bouncer and had to break up a fight between two girls. I swear, I did it by accident.

I once wished death by leprosy on a trucker who cut me off in the left lane of I-20 between Atlanta and Birmingham.

I once dated a Clemson coed.

In college, I pilfered an industrial-sized bag of shredded cheese from a Taco Bell. It lasted my two roommates and I three weeks.

During a brief career as a projectionist, I climbed out on a ledge, waited until the Titanic hit the iceberg and dumped a cooler full of ice cubes over the last two rows.

I don’t tip bartenders enough.

I once bid $8,000 for a date with Jessica Biel. And don’t say you wouldn’t have done the same.

I persuaded an active college football player to play on my intramural flag football team under the name “Art Vandelay.” The sad part is no one noticed until we got in a fight with the Sigma Nus.

Using my power as commissioner, I substituted a tight end who caught two first-quarter touchdowns into my fantasy football starting lineup after the rosters had been locked so I could win a playoff game.

I opened my eyes during that kiss.

There is a stolen street sign on my wall.

I display not only the Confederate battle flag in my house, but every other flag of the Confederacy as well.

I enjoy Skid Row.

I have killed and eaten several doves, a symbol of peace and non-violence.

I never have thought Meryl Streep was that talented.

I once dressed down a University of North Carolina concession worker for 15 minutes for being “barbecue-stupid” when she asked if I wanted cole slaw on my sandwich.

I have walked into a Frederick’s of Hollywood store.

One of my greatest ambitions is to be able to dance like Michael Jackson when he sang “Billie Jean” at the Motown 25th anniversary celebration.

I enjoyed “Howard the Duck.”

I think that covers it. My soul is unburdened.

I am ready to meet Tim Tebow.

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