It's too bad nobody won the Maserati GranCabrio. I really needed the tax deduction.
When I recently accepted “Lesa’s Bald-Face Liar Creative Writer Award” from some of my blogging buddies, I was obligated to tell you six outrageous lies and one total truth. Or six outrageous truths and one bold-faced lie.
And so I did.
Curiously, almost everybody assumed that six out of seven of my statements were lies, and that only one was true. I can only assume that people believe I’m rarely honest, or that I’m like James Thurber’s famous character Walter Mitty—a meek and mild-mannered man with a flamboyant imagination.
And you were half right.
I don’t lie; In fact, I’m honest to a fault—some people might even say rudely blunt. I feel perfectly at home in New York City, where people say what they mean, usually in less than 10 words, one of them being “fuck.”
But my everyday life is fairly dull, or what you might call average, boring, mundane, ordinary, routine, commonplace, humdrum, monotonous, tedious, uninteresting and unexciting—assuming you own a thesaurus like I do, and you probably do, because more than likely, you’re also average, and also lead a fairly dull life. In my experience, most people are surprisingly alike, and, like myself, hardly worth knowing, which is why we exaggerate, aggrandize, embellish, embroider, inflate and overstate the trivial events of our lives in order to feel important and make ourselves sound interesting to others.
But once in a while, something out of the ordinary happens to me, or near me. Hence my award-winning list, which was nearly all true, if a little misleading here and there just to keep the game interesting. Let’s take a closer look at each of the statements:
1) I once spent a week in Utah’s rugged mountains helping a team of technical climbers and law enforcement officers investigate a mysterious death. True, but misleading. After a National Park Service maintenance worker drove his motorcycle off a trail and fell 600 feet to his death on May 20, and I was asked to join a 10-person Serious Accident Investigation Team to help determine how the accident happened and how to help prevent similar mishaps in the future. The team included four very buff technical climbers, but I didn’t do any technical climbing—almost no climbing at all, in fact. Instead, I spent most of my time researching the park’s history and helping the team write its reports. We never learned what caused him to leave the trail—it could have been falling rocks—and so his death remains a tragic mystery.
Bigfoot also has big ears.
2) My brother is a wealthy former fashion model who is the world’s largest private collector of a particular type of antique furniture. True, although as my sister points out, we’ve never seen any photos from his fashion modeling days, leading us to speculate he was actually doing something shameful, although to be fair he is a notoriously private person who rarely communicates with his family. He is quite wealthy, however, and is the world’s largest private collector of a particular type of antique furniture. I didn’t name it because I can’t remember what it’s called. But it’s quite lovely, and I wish I owned some because then I could auction it off and pay off my house and take a trip to Italy.
3) I once held the world record for having the largest collection of business cards. Nope, this was a lie, but one based in truth. I did own a very large collection of business cards when I was a teenager and young adult—so large, in fact, that the local newspaper put a picture of me and some of my cards on its front page. I still have a laminated copy of the article, and often suspect it was the crowning achievement of my life.
4) I once spent a week searching for Bigfoot in the heavily wooded, swampy area of east Texas known as the Big Thicket. True, but misleading. I recently visited the northern end of the Big Thicket in East Texas for work. I wasn’t there to find Bigfoot, but because I desperately want to believe in Bigfoot, I spent most of my free time scanning the dense woods for signs of the hairy beast, and even hiked in it twice hoping to find some strange hair or scat that I could take to a cryptozoologist for analysis. Many people have reported Bigfoot encounters in the Big Thicket, which in the summer is a swampy, hot, miserable place that’s home to wild hogs, a host of poisonous snakes, and armadillos. Naturally, I didn’t see anything larger than a mosquito, spider or dragonfly, and I left the area after a week with a crushing sense of defeat, which is what I always feel when I spend time in a Bigfoot hot-spot but leave without a sighting. I may have to assuage my Bigfoot thirst by reading a book by author Rob Riggs called In the Big Thicket: On the Trail of the Wild Man. According to Riggs’ research, “in the Big Thicket, the unknown makes profound intrusions into what we call ‘reality.’ There are wonders in this region of East Texas and in Southwestern Louisiana—‘ghost lights,’ phantom Indians, howling ape-like ‘wild men,’ and fireballs that streak through the nighttime skies—that defy both our common sense notions of space-time and all attempts at scientific explanation. So come along, if you dare, for a trek in this forest primeval. You’ll emerge with a heightened sense of wonder and a deeper appreciation of the subtle links between the mysteries of nature and the human mind.” I love this sort of thing.
5) I recently went to Dairy Queen with the widow of the commander of the Space Shuttle Columbia. She had a medium chocolate-dip cone. I had a medium chocolate M&M Blizzard with malt. True. Her name is Evelyn Husband, and her husband, Rick, was killed in February 2003 along with six other astronauts when the Space Shuttle Columbia broke apart while re-entering the Earth’s atmosphere. Evelyn is working with a group of people in East Texas to help convince the National Park Service to build a permanent memorial to the crew. I met last week with Evelyn and a number of people who live near Hemphill, Texas, which is where most of the astronauts’ remains and much of the shuttle debris were found during what has been described as the largest search and recovery effort in American history. She’s an extremely nice, deeply spiritual Christian, and has written a book about her husband called High Calling: The Courageous Life and Faith of Space Shuttle Columbia Commander Rick Husband. I haven’t read it yet, but I hope to soon.
6) I once traveled to Geneva, Switzerland as a member of a German judo team. True, but also misleading. I was not a well-conditioned athlete with Olympic aspirations, as the statement might lead you to believe. In truth, I was about 10 or 11 years old, and the proud holder of a white belt in judo who would go on to never advance any higher in the sport because God did not see fit to bless me with attributes like strength, speed or balance. Instead, He blessed me with…well, He didn’t bless me with very much, to be honest, although I am grateful to be alive, I guess.
I can't wait to see Princess Stephanie of Monaco later this summer.
7) I wanted to be musician when I was younger, and took years of classical and jazz guitar lessons. True, as some of you correctly surmised. I grew up in a very musical family. For example, my father, Clarence, and his brother, Roy, were backup musicians for some of America’s most famous country performers on the travelling version of the Grand Ole Opry. I didn’t—and don’t—have their natural musical abilities, but with a lot of practice, I wasn’t half bad in my day. Unfortunately, I suffer from terrible stage fright, and rarely performed as a result. These days, I own a small collection of guitars, but rarely play anymore.
So there you have it. I hope I didn’t make you yawn or fall asleep, although there’s almost nothing as pleasurable as a good nap. I had promised to send a prize to the person who guessed which of my statements were true or false. But nobody did, and so I will keep the Maserati GranCabrio for myself. I might use it later this summer when I visit Princess Stéphanie of Monaco. She loves convertibles as much as I love princesses.
Bravo! Fact is, they did all sound oddly believable and in keeping with what we can see of your character through the pixels. I was sure about number five, however, because I was convinced that you wouldn’t pull in the widow of a shuttle commander who died in an explosion. Just not your style. But the rest — no way of telling.
You’ve proven one thing, the difference between the life extraordinary and the life ordinary is largely one of perspective.
Be sure to show the award to Princess Stephanie. She’ll be impressed.
“…what we can see of your character through the pixels.” What a great phrase that is, Frank. I love it. I will steal it when you’re not looking.
I owe you a lot of back reading, by the way, my friend. I have been exhausted lately. So tired, I expect to find out that I’m dying any day now. Or just to die.
If that’s boring, my life is pathetic.
Well, you said it, not me.
Go figure. It just goes to show how versitle the English languge is. A subtle turn of phrase can be totally misdirecting. Well done, Mike!
Thank you, Kam. I consider myself a master of misdirection. Also, a mistress of misdirection, but that’s another story entirely.
Do I get anything for kinda believing some of them and for guessing the business card collection was a total lie?
I mean…at least a drive in the convertible before you go to Monaco?
I would be more than happy to give you a drive in my convertible, assuming that’s not a dirty blues metaphor, because it kinda sounds like one, to be honest. I can hear Buddy Guy singing it now: “I love you for your pink convertible/Crushed velvet seats/
Riding in the back/Oozing down the street/Waving to the girls/Feeling out of sight/Spending all my money/On a Saturday night.”
It takes an exceptional writer to make the public believe that the truth is a lie. You should be the president’s speech writer — or a BP Executive. Heck, I bet you’d even be great at writing briefs for lawyers. Not that you’re good at lying, you’re just good at twisting the truth into a pretzel. Which is a good thing for a writer, by the way. Just saying.
Thank you?
I was totally going to say that the Bigfoot thing was true, because we all look for things in the shadows when we’re in a strange and alien place. I actually thought about good ole Sasquatch when hiking in Yosemite a bunch of years ago. So yeah, I sort of got your angle when I first read that one.
Excellent truths though. Sorry for doubting them!
No worries about the doubting thing, CheesyMike. It’s not like I’m Jesus and you’re Thomas or anything. Probably not, anyway. I’ll let you know if I start walking on water and turning my tap water into wine. You let me know if people start harassing you and threatening to martyr you.
Okay, way to not follow the rules, Mike. It said “outrageous lies”. Not “slightly altered truths that might sort of qualify as lies, but really aren’t.”
I still want to see a YouTube clip of you playing guitar, though.
Oopsy.
I really did wonder about all of them, because they sounded outrageously true (as in, who would make this stuff up?). Still, looking for Bigfoot seemed pretty unlikely until I realize that I used a whole summer looking for Jimmy Hoffa and then it made sense. The brother as a fashion model and antique furniture just sounds damned dramatic, doesn’t it? Throw in the great wealth and you could do a 7 part mini series just about this alone. Then you would have great wealth yourself to pass on to your soccer playing son! And you could also buy that car and go to Italy! (You really don’t want an Italian car unless you also get the live in mechanic, Michael. Stick with the Germans. They are not as much fun, but much better mechanically.)
Wait, buried inside that comment, pardon the pun, was a story that needs to be told: You spent an entire summer looking for Jimmy Hoffa? What? Please write a post about this asap.
And you’re right about the Italians. They build nice-looking cars, but for reliability, go German. The Germans never screw up.
I really was convinced I would find Jimmy. Never did, and that’s bugged me now for 30 years. I consider that situation the biggest “fail” of my adult life. Summers don’t grow on trees, you know.
At least you weren’t the only one to fail finding Hoffa. People wasted their entire lives looking for that guy. I heard he’s buried in a stadium or something.
*snooze*
Woops, you woke me up!
hee hee
Kidding!
You may be many things, but boring you ain’t!
Obviously, you haven’t spoken to my wife, or any of my “friends.”
What? You had enough business cards to be photographed and have an article written about you in the paper? That’s hilarious to me. And the fact that you called it the ‘crowning achievement of your life’.
True, and probably true, unless something good happens between now and the time I die, which I doubt.
seriously, I think that is absolutely hilarious.
It is kind of funny now that I think about it. I was a bit of a nerd. Am a bit of nerd.
(Crap – now I’m having problems with your capcha code tingum – sheesh, it must be Monday.)
I also had trouble discerning the lies from the truths, or vice versa. You sure earned your BA degree.
I would love a spin in that car! Maybe in Italy – in Tuscany?? Call me.
Italy is my dream vacation hotspot. A Maserati would only improve it. I’ll call you.
P.S. — I think you meant B.S. degree.
No, I meant BA – Bullshit Artist. Now, if you have an MBA, then you are the Master! Of course, if you had an LLB, that would make you a Lousy Little Bastard which pairs well with a BA or an MBA. Hmmm…it’s interesting to note that the majority of politicians are lawyers. Go figure.
Ah, now I see. And thank you.
I’m utterly shocked.
Thoughts:
1. “the Big Thicket, which in the summer is a swampy, hot, miserable place…”
Wow! This exactly describes my home right now in this ugly humid Michigan summer. I have no air conditioning. Miserable, I tell you. Miserable. I had no clue I lived in The Big Thicket. This explains all those grunting and clawing sounds I hear coming from the closet. Plus all the scat on the carpet. (And here I thought it was the cats.)
2. “I recently went to Dairy Queen with the widow of the commander of the Space Shuttle Columbia. She had a medium chocolate-dip cone. I had a medium chocolate M&M Blizzard with malt.”
This is TRUE?? Really? OMG, they can add MALT to things at Dairy Queen?
3. “I once traveled to Geneva, Switzerland as a member of a German judo team.
So wait… if this one is true, then does that mean you lived in Germany at the time? Sorry if I’m a little slow on the uptake here. I thought you were raised in the UK and then moved to the US. I didn’t realize there was a German period in there too. (Or was there? I’m confused.) Can you pronounce all those fun German words with a German accent which sounds like the person is about to kill you with his/her bare hands?
4. “…and so I will keep the Maserati GranCabrio for myself.”
Thank you for making me Google “Maserati GranCabrio”.
Fortunately, I didn’t find it all that appealing, so I’m glad I failed miserably.
I’m one of those weird “hopelessly stuck in the 80′s” people who still thinks DeLoreans look cool. Not to mention sensational, nifty, amazing, divine, dandy, glorious, swell, neat, and breathtaking.
1) That’s disgusting, but also intriguing because if you have a Bigfoot trapped in your closet, then I’m coming over for a visit. With a large net and several stun guns, of course.
2) Oddly enough, the woman behind the counter at DQ had the same reaction. No kidding. She said, “You want malt in a blizzard?” I said, “Yes,” and then she told me that this was “a first” in her DQ career. I actually felt good about taking her job to the next level.
3) Yes, there was a German period, too. I lived in England for several years and German for about two. I think. I was young then, and didn’t pay much attention to time. Actually, I still don’t.
4) You’re not hopeless; DeLoreans do look cool, not to mention sensational, nifty, amazing, divine, dandy, glorious, swell, neat, and breathtaking. But I also like the Maserati, as well as the Porsche Cayman, and the Porsche Carrerra.
Darn. I didn’t win the million dollars. Which really sucks because it would appear I’ve been replaced as a human thesaurus too. Well, at least I now know what your crowning achievement was. Although I don’t get how having a bunch of business cards is a bigger deal than travelling to Switzerland as part of the German judo team. Unless you got your ass kicked and were totally humiliated in front of family and frien….oh. Um. I mean, business cards ROCK dude!
With some hindsight, and some hind kicking, I also quickly realized that my God-given physique was more suited to collecting things than to knocking people over.
Michael, your physique is just fine. Knocking people over is not as fun as knocking people off.
Good point.
Wow! This is such a huge coincidence. I once worked at a Dairy Queen, but I could never make that shitty little curly Q on the top of the cone so they fired me.
Seriously, you’re much more interesting than you think, my friend.
That’s one sad reason to get fired. And yet it makes a great story, proving once again that in life things often have a way of balancing themselves out.
As far as being interesting goes, I don’t think so. And that’s okay. Somebody has to be average. In fact, most of us have to be average. That’s just the way it is. I deal with it.
What part of your life would you call boring? Nothing about you so far comes close to that description. In fact, I think I don’t like you very much. Your life is wonderful and full of adventures and you know so many interesting people and you know how to write so well. Well, that is enough. You know what I mean.
I’m incredibly handsome, too, but please don’t hate me because I’m blessed. That was God’s doing, and sometimes I wish I could just be like everybody else.
Congratulations Mike, you are a very good… what’s the opposite of liar? Truth-teller? Oh well, you’re very good at it. I’m a little sad I didn’t win the million dollars, though, I was counting on it to survive winter.
So… Is your brother single?
You’re already thinking about winter? Are you really that dark, or does winter arrive in July in Finland?
And I’m terribly sorry, but my brother’s spoken for. So is my sister, just in case you’re curious, as I know you are.
Dude, winter hasn’t left yet. And when it does, we’ll just have time to celebrate midsummer and then we’ll have to start thinking about the Christmas tree.
That’s a real shame about your sister and brother. Did you tell them I don’t bite?
You don’t bite? You must not be very much fun in bed.
Silly person. Of course I’m fun in bed (Nicky will verify). But things done in bed are always to be kept separate from things done in public. Unless the boinking is taking place in public, of course, but that is more of an exception than a rule, really. And since I don’t bite in public unless there’s exceptional boinking going on, it makes perfect sense to say that I don’t bite. It’s not like you would go around saying that you squirt weird white stuff all over someone just because you might choose to do so in bed, or in public during exceptional boinking. No?
Your logic is flawless, if repulsive in its sticky details, Ziva.
And what’s all this talk about public venues and Nicky? Has she been to Finland lately? Have you been to Canada lately? Why aren’t one or both of you writing posts about this? We’re all biting our…uhmmm…nails waiting to hear the details.
Flawless, repulsive and sticky, that’s me. You really shouldn’t bite your nails, Mike, I never kiss and tell.
Shucks.
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