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.)
In California we used to have these Van de Kamps restaurants, noteworthy only for having giant, neon-lit windmills atop them. One night, as we passed by one of them, and someone in the car pointed out that some of the arms were unlit, I informed everyone that this was not merely a matter of bad wiring or bulbs going out, but harkened back to old traditions amond Dutch merchant sailors. They would often, in their long sea journeys, lose track of the day (especially if there were large storms). To that end, the windmill owners of Holland would hang lanterns in patterns on the blades to give out the day of the week (one blade meant one thing, two adjoining blades meant something, etc.).
I actually had the car occupants going for a while, largely because I am notorious for being a repository of obscure information.
I once convinced my best friend that peanut-butter Twix bars caused erectile disfunction. I feel bad about it now. He gave them up and everything.
i sometimes lie about my age, adding several years, then giving folks a hard time when the inevitable “you look good FOR YOUR AGE” – comments come – “what, I dont simply look good, but only FOR MY AGE?”
On the first night I met her, I told my finacee that Wrangler Jeans didn’t have seams on the inside. Reason being that cowboys wouldn’t chafe from riding. She went so far as to ask a local cowboy if she could feel the inside of his legs. I got busted, but she’s marrying me.
I think I could write a book about things i lied about ot people this week. Besides telling people I went to Northwestern I can often convince people I am a lawyer (amazing what you leanr on L+O).
I think the best one is the time I convinced a friend of mine that he couldn’t get a hold of me because I was hacking as a consultant for the FBI (actually I was in Iowa).
A little knowledge on a broad subject is a terribly dangerous thing in the hands of someone without morals and a poor opinion of his fellow man.
I hope your friend reads this and you’re busted 🙂
I’ll never forget the time I… oh forget it.