End of the year confessions

The things I need to get off my chest before I start 2011 are as follows:

• I like the Femen movement for all the wrong reasons.
• I cut that fart in the library that day, it wasn't that kid in the wheel chair that I blamed it on.
  
• I dared Julian Assange to leak all that stuff.
• I have yet to refudiate anything.
• I didn't finish the Dickens novel I said I was going to finish.
  
• I'm still very lukewarm on Terry Pratchett.
• I still hold out hope that I'll hit the mega Mega Millions jackpot before the end of the year.
• If you still had a Bush/Cheney bumpersticker on your car I flipped you a bird.
• I ate the last of that thing we got at that place. I didn't feel good about doing it, but I did it anyway.
• I passed off one of your Tweets as mine.
• I was less than fresh a while back.
• I mortally wounded a man in Reno just to watch him die.
• I pissed on Lucille Ball's grave.
  
• I started that rumor about Margaret Trudeau.
  
• I made Tiger Woods my bitch.
• I shared my explosive diarrhea in several public restrooms on more than one occasion.
• I made naughty anagrams out of your name.
• I didn't mean for those nude pictures I drew of you to be such a hit in Estonia and Latvia, it just turned out that way.
• I should never be in the same room at the same time with a pencil and a cat in heat. I'm just saying.

Whew, I feel a whole lot better now that I got all that off my chest.