So, people. It appears that I, too, have a dream. A dream that one day people will stop blowing smoke up my arse. You see, I hates me some embellishers. I loathe when people tell me a story, and suddenly greasy green goblins and sparkly winged John Cenas are fluttering around the feathery, flattened, far-out atmosphere. I will pray, hope and meditate with heavy finger crossing and eyes taped shut that when you tell me a story, you tell me the straight up #truth.
I’ve heard so many stories about things like this: “Oh, my GAWD, Tara. I told this crazy nursing resident the hell OFF!” Please just give that shit to me straight. After your first: “...And then I said BITCH! Oh, I got all up in her face!” And then when you start working your chicken head neck around, I’ve suddenly tuned the hell out. I don’t know who you are trying to impress with your “I told hers,” and the “She will never come at me again with that catheter” nonsense BS. Because I ain’t buying it. I’ve known you for 10 years, and you can’t even tell the next door neighbor that their dog is taking planet sized dumps by your mailbox post EVERY DAMN DAY. Here’s a solid example of how you can employ my truth technique. Let’s do this exercise together: I’ll play the customer in these 2 different scenarios. Scenario/Customer 1 to Cashier: “Um, Patty. If you don’t mind, I just realized that I’ve miscounted and instead of 10, I’ve just realized there are 11 items here. Would you like me to go into another aisle? I feel horrible and will be happy to go to another lane.” Scenario/Customer 2 to Cashier: “Yo, Patty. Since I already have all of my 52 items on the conveyor belt, and accidentally shimmied into the 10 items or less lane, what about yous just let me stay here and finish this transaction? Deep condolences. Oh well, let’s get on with the scanning, sister.”
Which person are you? Agh, Don’t bother. I probably wouldn’t believe you anyway.
I get lied to A LOT. I guess when you have my “special” quiet, introverted, non-confrontational skillz, it’s bound to happen. Stop crapping on my face and calling it a fondue fiesta. What kind of stupid do you think I am?
Here’s one of my favorites: “Gurl, I have -.08 cents to last me for the last two weeks, and that ain’t no joke!” Um. I just saw your Facebook status where you featured your new $700 pedicure encrusted with diamonds and authentic Eagle feathers. So, I’m pretty sure you have at least $701 in your account. But, that’s just a hunch.
Now, when I tell somebody that I have negative 8 cents in my checking account, that is not a lie. I’m collecting bottles for gas money, stealing money out of my kids’ piggy banks, ciphering change from inside my couch cushions and doing some heavy praying. Because, it’s not like I also have $5K in my savings that I can just willy nilly transfer over, like “OMG I’m SO broke, my savings is down from $50K to $48. Boo-hoo, whoa is me.” No, my shit is broke ass broke. If I told you I was broke, then I can’t even hop in Walgreens for ATM usage to transfer from savings to checking. BECAUSE THERE IS NONE. And guess what? The $3.50 non bank ATM fee? That would kill a bitch. Okay? So don’t tell me you can’t fly to Fiji and Bora Bora both in the same month because you’re “SOOOOO broke.” Good Lawd, #liar.
I don’t get why people have to lie. To me, it undermines their credibility and compromises their character. I get wanting to add some extra emphasis in your story. But, that is what hand motions are for. You can say “I was so mad at the bank teller today,” and get all up in my face and pass a fake punch in mid-air to emphasize your anger. You can blow the smoke from your nostrils and stamp your feet, and I will KNOW that you were some kind of livid. But, there’s absolutely no need to add “So I sucker punched her after I jumped over the turnstile!” because somehow, for some strange reason, in a galaxy far, away, I’m probably just going to roll my eyes and wave my BS flag.
The moral of the story is: Embellish if you must. Make that story more juicy, sprinkle in every little truth stretcher that you can. Make it a good one; stick to it and don’t stray. I’ll be the person nodding profusely, giving you the fake “Oh no you didn’ts,” and the obligatory “Wow’s” and the non-heartlelt “that’s crazy’s” as I am walking away and passively aggressively starting to dial my phone carrier to have my number, my identity, my home, car, and place of employment changed. I’m not an exaggerator hater. I find those people humorous. They have every right to concoct their tall tales and most gargantuan of white lies. I’m just not signing up to be in your audience. Oh, and you just got FB #blocked.