This admission

I don't think I've told this to anybody.  You see, there are two kinds of people in this world: Those who clean their ears daily with q-tips, and those who do not.  I am the former of the two. Every day, without fail, a cotton swab and I go at it and it's a pleasurable experience for all involved. Or so I assume. But how does one begin such a lifetime of auricle servitude? I know just the moment when it happened. Perhaps you've seen the quintessential 80's teen love ski movie Better Off Dead with the ever deadpan John Cusack.  Perhaps you haven't, and if that's the case, go rectify that shit right now.  He battles wills and wits with Blond Popular Hunk  Who We Swear Is 17 But Looks About 30 Because That's How We Rolled In Those Days on the slopes of some nameless midwestern town costarring an actress with the most hysterically horrendous French accent you've ever freaking heard.  In this movie, there's a fabulous bathroom scene wherein John starts stuffing q-tips in every orifice he has above the waist. I've used them ever since. My name is Jake, and I'm a swabber.