Confessions of a lazy blogger.

I confess that I absolutely hate coffee. In fact, I don't even like the smell. With the exception of the overpriced baked goods, I totally avoid Starbucks and have never even had a tiny sip of a pumpkin spice latte. They even manage to ruin smoothies by loading them with bananas.

I confess that I know way too many One Direction songs to be a 26-year-old adult. I suppose the real confession here is that I can name every member of the group and might have the slightest crush on Harry Styles. Come on - I'm convinced he is actually Mick Jagger's love child.

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I confess that I hit the snooze button on my phone for at least 30 minutes every morning. Sorry I'm not sorry.

I confess that I'm not the best at staying in touch. I have so many awesome friends and family members that I wish I could see and catch up with on a daily basis, but I'm not very good about picking up the phone or writing an e-mail. Fortunately, it's easy to pick right up where we left off with most of them.

I confess that despite my dislike for the phone, I still call my mom every single day...sometimes more than once.

I confess that I've seen Dave Matthews Band in concert 18 times. By summer's end, I will have seen them 20 times and I think it might be time for an intervention. If I do my math correctly, that means I've shelled out over $1,000 in ticket fees alone to feed my habit. When I factor in the gas money, parking charges, food and drinks, and hotel costs for concerts out of town, it almost makes me feel guilty. Almost.

DMB Caravan 2011.

I confess that I've been walking around with chipped nail polish all week.

I confess that I'm not a pet person. *ducks and hides* Every now and then, I find myself wanting a dog, but then I remember all of the responsibilities and expenses that come along with pet ownership and promptly talk myself out of it. I can barely take care of myself, folks.

I confess that World Cup soccer is not my thing. Of course I'm rooting for the U.S. and yes, I'd love to physically be at the games, but I just can't get into watching guys from Honduras and Ecuador run around on some grass for 90+ minutes. Between this admission and my hatred of seafood, Wheat is seriously reconsidering our relationship.

I confess that I'm actually worried you will judge my confessions. Perhaps I worry too much.