Why is everyone high on kale? I can't stand the stuff. The texture is crinkly, and the taste is bitter. If I see kale soup on another menu, I'll puke. Whatever happened to spinach? It's delicious, nutritious and look what it did for Popeye.

I love submarine movies...all of them, from Run Silent, Run Deep to Das Boot (including the director's cut which runs over three hours), to Cary Grant in Operation Petticoat. Don't have a clue why. After visiting the Intrepid, I know I wouldn't want to spend the night in one.

I spend huge amounts of money on designer clothes online at Neiman Marcus (Needless Markup), then when it's time to finalize the sale, I cancel it. This habit is immensely satisfying because you commit the naughty sin of spending all that money, and then you are immediately absolved, feeling like you've done a good thing. It's like going to confession, but with no rosary penalties.

I'm pathetically in love with my dog, Betty, but I don't French kiss her. It's just that her tongue is so long, and I start thinking about where it's been...kinda like being with a man who sleeps around too much; there's too much to think about.

I hate those gargantuan Escalades that bully around town. Friggin FUVs.

I love Mexican food: cheese enchiladas, carnitas (even though I've sworn off pork because pigs are our friends), tacos, refried beans. Nothing irritates me more than a "Mexican" restaurant that serves black beans only. Who are they kidding?

I don't take to men who preach pro-life. Try having the baby yourself, mister.

I take to men with a sense of humor.

If a hotel room doesn't have a mini-bar, I'm generally unhappy.

If a restaurant doesn't have a bar, I'm specifically unhappy.

I don't like to look at people who collect spittle at the corners of the mouth, probably because I'm almost there.