Admission of Guilt

October 3, 2009

I found a package on the backseat of my minivan the other night. It had a note in it. The note read: “You have done some terrible things, and I’m going to write a screenplay about it. Maybe a book, too.”

I’m sick and tired of being blackmailed. Go ahead and blackmail me. I have no secrets. You want to ruin my life? Go ahead and try. As Mandi from Nerd Hurdles said so well the other day, feel free to steal my identity. I’m a twice-divorced unemployed househusband whose picture is posted on the wall of every cheap-ass credit card company in the world. Go ahead.

This guy wanted two million dollars Canadian to keep my secrets quiet. I told him I didn’t have the money. He asked what I had. I offered six bucks worth of old hockey cards. He threatened to go public. I decided to beat him to the punch:

I admit to reading the blogs of women to whom I am not married. Also, I am fussy about sentence structure. But yes, I sometimes go outside of the relationship for good writing. This is hard to admit. Mrs. Weathereye is one of the most gifted writers in Canada, an award-winning journalist whose new book is currently setting coffee tables on fire across the country. But when she goes to sleep at night, I creep down here and read blogs run by she-geeks. Sometimes they talk about Planet of the Apes and I get all gooey.

Am I proud of this? Yes. Do I want the world to know? I guess I do, because you’re reading this. This is why the blackmail scheme failed. The last I heard, dude was hanging up, muttering something about Letterman.


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