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I've decided that I could possibly be a pathological liar. In fact, I just might be lying about might being a pathological liar. And you know, I am laughing deep down inside.
Actually, I think that lying is quite fun. I do know that in some cases it's wrong, and one shouldn't lie if not for any other reason than because it's not very comely to be introduced as 'John, the pathological liar, every officespace has one, you know.' But, really, do you think that it's all that important if you're sitting out in a club with some random guy you just finished up necking with in a bathroom stall and you tell him that your name is Iris instead of Lily? Does it really matter that you tell someone that you're from the jungles of BoraBora and that you lived in a longhouse for the first ten years of your life with 300 other BoraBorians?"Well what was it like in BoraBora?"
"Oh, fine, really, except you'd have to especially watch out for getting trench foot. My god it's such a pain to deal with. And there was a visiting anthropologist there when I was growing up and the idiot kept mistaking our garden for the jungle and he'd actually shit in it, right next to where the cabbages were. He'd just go out and shit in our garden. My god, I couldn't get the taste out for weeks." Now, I think that lie would have been quite convincing. |
