In no way, shape or form do I admit that I am perfect. I'm far from it.
Knowing that I'm not perfect, which I know shocks many of you, I also know that I can admit my faults.
For one, I realize I have the willpower the size of an ant. I realize this is my worst diet fault, yet I can't seem to break the bad habit.
Like right now, I know for dinner tonight I should get Subway. But I really want a veggie pizza from Pizza Joes. The sad thing is, I know exactly which one is going to win, and it's not even a close race. And I do feel guilty. I do. A little. But not enough to deter me from the yummy-ness of veggie pizza.
Another weakness that I'm completely aware of is my need for television's guilty pleasures. There are always my staples of "So You Think You Can Dance," "Gilmore Girls" reruns, and "The Real Housewives" of, well, anywhere. But my newest pleasure, and it took me awhile to jump on the bandwagon, is the train wreck of "Jon and Kate Plus Eight."
Last weekend, during a rare weekend of minimal work, there was a massive marathon of TV's "favorite family." Massive as in two days long leading up to the season premier where the two were "facing each other for the first time."
Even if you aren't a fan of the show, you would have to be living under a rock not to know about the "scandals" going on with Jon and Kate. Both have been on the covers of tabloids for weeks for one reason or another, mostly because of rumors of infidelity.
Well, I decided that if Kate is anything in real life like she is on the show, Jon is a saint to have married her, let alone have eight kids, because she's crazy.
I started watching the show because the kids are stinking adorable. Well, the older twins are just turning into tween-star brats, but the six babies are precious.
And I don't know what it is that keeps me tuning in. The temper tantrums? The fighting? Jon looking at Kate like she's from another planet? I don't know why I can't turn it off. It's like looking at the sun or a bad car wreck.
It's sad that children have to know what the word "paparazzi" is, but it's great TV. And I'm sold.
My last weakness, which I share with most people in the Tribune reading area, is one that I'm ready to give up if things don't go well. That's right, folks: Cleveland sports. I'm ready to call it quits.
As I write this column, it's Friday afternoon, so the outcome of game 6 has not been determined. But I've declared to more than one person and now to my reading audience, if the Cavs did not win the series last night, I'm out. I'm done. Sayonara, Cleveland.
I can't do it anymore. Between the Cavs, Indians and Browns, I don't know if I have the strength to keep enduring seasons like this. I've watched my dad battle for 28 years. I don't know if I have another 28 in me.
I ran the idea passed my dad the other day, and he called me a quitter. I can understand where he is coming from. But here is my reasoning.
Don't parents want better for their children then they had for themselves? Don't parents want children to learn from their mistakes? That's what I'm doing. I'm learning from mistakes.
So, if the Cavs have lost Game 6, I'm done. And here are my new allegiances: Go Mets. Go Atlanta Falcons. And I'm giving up the NBA. I don't need it. But I'm thinking about picking up hockey. Washington Capitals, here I come.
Call me a quitter, call me taking the easy way out. When I'm smiling in any playoffs, I will know I have made the right decision.
I can quit the Cavs, but "Jon and Kate Plus Eight," no way.
Sulonen is a sports writer at the Tribune. E-mail her at email@example.com