Xkot’s post about chicken and ham reminded me of some lies I’ve told in the past. I find it pretty fun to spin out a tall tale every once in a while, especially because people tend to believe me.
The cheese test story
I mentioned this before on my about page. When I went to college in Illinois (Northwestern – you know, one of those second-tier colleges), I was bombarded by people who thought because I lived in Wisconsin, I automatically lived on a farm and milked cows each morning at dawn. Mind you, these were Illinois people, and flatlanders have very little justification for making fun of other people’s home states.
So anyway, I made up this story that to graduate from high school in Wisconsin, you had to pass a cheese identification test. Amazingly, just about everyone believed this. There’s flatlanders for you.
The Tommy Bartlett story
Also in college, at some point I mentioned that my mother’s full name was Barbara Bartlett Bunker Blust, and people found this hilarious. Somebody said, “So is she related to Tommy Bartlett?” Again with the Wisconsin-bashing. Tommy runs a series of embarrassingly cheesy “attractions” in Wisconsin Dells, a tourist trap I fondly refer to as “the armpit of Wisconsin.” “Tommy Bartlett’s Robot World,” that sort of thing.
So since someone was lamebrained enough to think my mother’s name was more than a coincidence, I just ran with it. Yes, he’s her uncle, I said. She’s going to inherit millions, I said. Everyone believed that one too.
The pot story
This one I’m a tiny bit ashamed of. My friend Wendy believes I was a big pothead in college. She still does, as far as I know. She was telling some sort of pot-smoking story and I thought I would throw it out there as a joke. But when she took me seriously (and also clearly was impressed), I couldn’t resist it.
What big lies have you told? (Not you, Miguel. 🙂 We already know.)