A weird fact about yourself

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When I was in high school I had a ketchup drawer in my dresser. Not a junk drawer, but just ketchup. They had a rule that you could only get 2 ketchup packets going through the lunch line, so I would get my 2 and put them on the tray. Then I would grab a massive hand full and put them in my coat pocket. Whatever was left went in the drawer for 4 years. I counted them towards the end of my senior year and I had over 1,000. My poor ketchup collection disappeared after I left for basic training.
 

hmanvolfan

Volmeister extraordinaire
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When I was in high school I had a ketchup drawer in my dresser. Not a junk drawer, but just ketchup. They had a rule that you could only get 2 ketchup packets going through the lunch line, so I would get my 2 and put them on the tray. Then I would grab a massive hand full and put them in my coat pocket. Whatever was left went in the drawer for 4 years. I counted them towards the end of my senior year and I had over 1,000. My poor ketchup collection disappeared after I left for basic training.
😳 😂
 

CAVPUT

Stand For Freedom
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Right handed, left eye dominant, but I still shoot right handed. Even qualified sharpshooter during Army Basic.
I'm left handed but right eye dominant. I shoot with both hands but favor the left. I can sleep in any vehicle or any place at any time for that matter. Gimme 10 min anywhere/any time and I'm out like a light.
 

pismonque

Bury me in Orcadian peat
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When I was in high school I had a ketchup drawer in my dresser. Not a junk drawer, but just ketchup. They had a rule that you could only get 2 ketchup packets going through the lunch line, so I would get my 2 and put them on the tray. Then I would grab a massive hand full and put them in my coat pocket. Whatever was left went in the drawer for 4 years. I counted them towards the end of my senior year and I had over 1,000. My poor ketchup collection disappeared after I left for basic training.
I’m only quoting here because ketchup makes a good segue for a mustard story. The story’s a little long but at least the payoff is a bit of a letdown.

When I was in junior high, everybody had one study hall period and because our school was overcrowded, the study halls were relegated to the bleachers in the balcony of the gym where it was absolutely impossible to study or do anything else productive. My study hall teacher one year was this 126-year-old lady with a bobbed hairdo dyed dark red who just sat on the bottom row of the bleachers and ignored us all till the bell rang.

One day a big ol’ fatass putz about halfway up the bleachers decided it would be funny to set a mustard packet down on the bench seat and stomp it, without any regard for where the mustard went. Of course, the mustard found its way only to our ancient teacher and splatted her good, whereupon she stood up and turned around, looking confused and angry at all of us potential suspects.

I remember being mad at the fatass putz for his meanness, and I remember feeling sorry for Ol’ Red in her hurt and confusion, but mostly I remember this one big wormy blob of bright yellow mustard that sat on the crown of her head next to the part in her dark red hair, and how the two colors made such an oddly satisfying complementary presentation together. And then I felt really guilty for liking it so much.
 

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