Wednesday, June 21, 2006


I can't keep secrets to save my life. I have been a blabber mouth forever. Secrets about myself, about others, about strangers, etc. Can't keep 'em. It hurts my head. I have to talk. I have to tell someone, ANYONE.

What's so funny is that I work in a field where confidentiality is key. So, I keep all those secrets, no prob. But my own? Nope. Can't do it. Won't do it. There isn't much that people won't know about me. As uncomfortable as that is for some of them. Heck, for most of them. Other people's secrets? I have a problem with that too.

I mean, I'm trust worthy. Sure I am. To a point. I will tell some things to some people, but I try to keep it mostly to my siblings or people who won't care enough to spread it beyond that. Otherwise, why would people tell me anything? And they do. All the time. Friends, strangers, random bizzare people in the mall. People tell me stuff.

What I love? People will sometimes ask if I can keep a secret. I tell them. Not to save my life. And yet, they still tell me. I don't get it.


  1. So I guess in retrospect, I shouldn't have told you about my monkeys slathered in peanut butter fetish.

  2. Joe, that was awesome. I salute you.


Crap monkies say "what?"