By Jerry Zezima When I was a kid, I wanted to be a private eye (my other eye, I figured, would be public), but I never pursued it because I was sure...

In the four decades since I took a driver's ed class, I have become such a proficient motorist that I could teach a class myself except that I have two speeding tickets on my record and my name isn't Ed.

With apologies to Nathaniel Hawthorne, who is dead and can't sue me, I live in the House of the Three Gables. When the vent in the main one, the Clark gable, was gone with the wind after a recent storm, my wife, Sue, asked me to fix it.

I didn't major in physics in college, though I do have a BS in life, but I know that one of the principles of this fascinating science is that any space will be filled -- except, of course, the one between my ears.

As a painter, Pablo Picasso had nothing on me. Sure, he had a Blue Period, but it lasted only three years. My Blue Period has lasted almost 25 years, and every time I've had a painting project, it's made me blue, which is the color of the master bedroom and the adjoining bathroom.

As a nice Italian boy, as well as a former runner-up in the Newman's Own & Good Housekeeping Recipe Contest for a dish I called Zezima's Zesty Ziti Zinger, I have many remembrances of things pasta.

A man's home is his hassle. That's why he needs a throne to sit on. And I'm not talking about one made of porcelain.

I could never see myself in a little French maid's outfit, except on weekends while doing my household chores, and I don't suppose I'll ever wear one because: (a) I probably couldn't find something like that in my size and (b) I don't speak French.

I know cliches like the back of my hand and I've always thought that people should avoid them like the plague.

As a frequent blood donor and a proud member of the Gallon Club, which has nothing to do with my weekend beer consumption, I have often wondered if the people who get my blood suffer from terrible side effects like telling stupid jokes and growing a mustache.

At the urging of my wife, Sue, who got into the 21st century when it actually started, I exchanged my dumbphone for a smartphone. And it cost me only 99 cents.

It sure has been an exciting 2012 for the Zezimas! The good news is that nobody in the family went to prison, though three of us had brushes with the law.

Over the years, I have cleaned up my act. Now my desk is so neat that it looks like I don't do any real work, which I don't.

If the shoe fits, get LeBron James to buy it for you. That's what I wanted to do recently when I went to the Nike Factory Store in Riverhead, N.Y., to purchase a pair of sneakers.

When I was a kid, I wanted to be like Robin Hood, except I wouldn't be caught dead in tights. But I did love the concept of using a bow and arrows to rob from the rich and give to the poor.

As a guy who is often compared to the back end of a horse, I had always wanted to see how the other half lives. I got a chance recently when I met Frank, the mane man at Greenlawn Equestrian Center on Long Island, N.Y., where I had gone for a horseback riding lesson.

Ever since the economy turned so sour that a lemon would seem sweet by comparison, I have wondered if there are any entrepreneurs out there with a bold business model that can help get the country back on its feet.

When it comes to pianists, only one -- goodness gracious! -- is a great ball of fire. I refer, of course, to Jerry Lee Zezima.

Because my back felt better the day of my appointment, DiBenedetto didn't crack it. But he did give me a brief education in chiropractic medicine. I came away from my first visit to a chiropractor with great respect for the profession.

I was born more than three weeks past my due date and haven't been on time for anything since. I don't even wear a watch because I don't care what time it is.

I don't like to brag about my athletic prowess, mainly because I don't have any, but I must say that I was a pretty good baseball player in my day.

Still, I have told my wife that I don't have to change my seasonal wardrobe because you never know what the temperature is going to be in the office.