I messed up. When I was a junior in high school, I crashed my mom’s car. The worst part was that I lied about the cause. My excuse was that I was reaching into the back seat to grab a brush. This was the ‘80’s, so I had to tame the mullet! The truth was that I was attempting to get a cigarette out of the pack and lit. this is not a story my 16-year-old self wanted to tell my parents, so I lied. That same year, my parents went away on a trip over a weekend, so I had a party. We had a keg of beer and lots of people. The screen door was broken, my shower wall was kicked in (don’t ask), and the cover on my stepfather’s cherished red Trans Am was ripped. You guessed it, I had great stories for each incident. What about that time a friend was attempting to cook lamb, but it was taking forever, so I left. That relationship was never the same. There was another time when the twins were little that I got so angry I took their toy golf club and broke it over my...