Bazillions. Closet? My skeletons would fill a dump truck.
I’ve said, and joked about, everything at one point. I’ve inhaled, I’ve fornicated, I lack the Woke™️ gene, I’m short on patience, I can’t control my eye-rolling, etc. I’m the last person that needs to be hosting a game show.
“Good grief, are your brains in your titties? Is that how you got on the show? Where was I?”
I wouldn’t last four seconds of Twitter scrutiny. To that crowd, I’m surely the devil himself.
…and I couldn’t be more proud of the fact.