I have an insatiable palate. I'll try anything once, with an open mind. However, there is a special place in my heart for Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. Don't get me wrong, I've sampled specialty Mac & Cheese all over the world, but nothing competes with the stuff I grew up on.

I think that being read to every night is the reason why I was plowing through volume after volume of 'Nancy Drew' books all by myself by the time I reached the first grade. I loved stories. I loved the escape. I had a vivid imagination.

I can never find a movie I want to watch, even though I've got hundreds to choose from.

I love food. I mean, I really love food. I take pictures of my finest, funniest and most fascinating dishes, post them on Twitter, and send them to friends. I treat menus like classic literature, refusing to skip even one word. I read the description of every item, regardless of whether or not I'm interested in eating it.

How come I love having an episode of deja vu? It's akin to an out-of-body experience, I would think. It sits with me, happily, begging me to delve into my memory to find its match point.

I used to hate working out - until I learned how to do it properly.

Apparently, despite my awareness of its pejorative connotation, procrastinating is something I fall victim to quite frequently. I'm not proud of it; I'm just being honest.