Almost every week, someone's mad at me.
I have like fifteen televisions in my house.
I only get unusual ailments.
I'm a creative consultant, whatever that means.
I'm a terrible golfer.
It's funny how all of this has worked out - I wasn't popular in high school, but now every drunken guy in the United States wants to be my pal. They all want to buy me a shot, and pretty soon I'm throwing up.
That's my main flaw: I always think authority figures or my boss is going to think something I do is funny. And usually they don't.
There's an air of mystery around the Masons, but the reality is that they're mostly a bunch of veterans getting drunk in a lodge that they've built to look like a temple. It's just a bunch of guys trying to get away from their wives.