Will the real Kevin please stand up?

There are things about me you people wouldn't understand. Things you couldn't understand. Things you . . . shouldn't . . . understand, but in the interest of public interest I feel it's time I came clean. If confession is good for the soul, then I'm about to do my spiritual body good. I'm going to share with you five things about me, one of which is a bold-faced lie. Cause that's how I roll. Oh yeh, and I'll elaborate a little on each one so's y'all can get some idea as to which one's made up.

Kinda like on Wait Wait . . . Don't Tell Me!, only without that smarmy Peter Sagal and those pesky intermittent requests for contributions from listeners like you.

1. I once spoke with a Catholic priest in a confessional.

Well, I wasn't in the confessional but he was. I don't confess to priests, because I have you people to tell my dirty little secrets to. Anyway, it was at the Church of Our Lady Victorius where it's locally known as Kostel Panny Marie Vítězné. The cathedral is home to the Infant Jesus of Prague. As it happened I was merely walking around the church snapping flash photographs when Father Petr stepped out and asked me where I was from. Not scoldingly either. He just struck up a conversation with me. His English was good and before we parted ways he wrote down his email address on my palm pilot.

2. I am a former smoker.

A pack a day, and sometimes if I was out late or working on a paper I probably stretched it into a pack and a half. I started smoking Kent, then went on to whatever brand was cheapest, and finished off with Carlton before finally quitting after six years. On the evening I decided to quit I threw all my cigarettes out my car window along with empty packets, lighters, matches, even old butts while driving home. Sure, I may have pissed off Woodsy Owl, but I was determined to snuff out Joe Camel.

3. I once drove a police car.

Well, not for a living or anything, but I did hop in the driver's seat of one once and back it up so as to unblock the parking space my car was in. The engine was already running and the door was even open. The cop was standing there, and when he asked me if he was blocking my way and I said yes, he tossed me the keys and told me to back it up. I did. Those cars are plush on the inside. Our tax dollars at work, I suppose.

4. I have appeared in newspapers, radio and even television.

While I don't have the time to get up on the community theater stage as much as I used to, I've performed in a number of local shows and have therefore had my name and mug in the paper a few times. I've been on the radio twice, once as part of a scout tour when I was eight, and then later I was a caller on the David Paul show.back when he was on WSB. As far as television appearances go, mine aren't that glamorous. Once I was lurking in the background of a televised town meeting and another time viewers could see me waving to the camera along with everyone else at a children's program at my local public library.

5. Because I think relieving oneself should be done as quickly and easily as possible, I do not wear underwear and I don't own any button-fly jeans.

Two things I fail to understand when it comes to this are: 1) why more guys don't go the commando route; and B) why people are ooked out when I say that I do. Does underwear really serve any vital role these days? Is it just a hand-me-down from the Victorian era? And as far as button flies go, unless you're Amish (and if you are shame on you for being at a computer terminal!) why would anyone opt for this type of closure? A guy who wears them has to stand at the urinal an extra thirty seconds trying to get the damn things buttoned back up. And if the second to top button comes undone while he's buttoning the top one, that's another ten seconds added on right there. Sheesh!

OK, enough confession. Though while I'm at it I should probably let you know that this post is in response to a meme sent to me by Blog Antagonist who as it happens is offering a prize to a random correct guesser of her own little untruth. If you can successfully guess mine, your prize is nothing more than the joy of winning which basically equals suckitude. I guess I could offer you something from the "gift drawer" but who in their right mind would want some thrice re-gifted Ikea napkin holders? Besides we might actually use those some day.

Tell you what, if you guess correctly, you can have my voice on your home answering machine.