The Lies We Leave Behind

I've been catching up with some old friends via the wonderful world of the web. LinkedIn, Facebook, and this - my little on-line "softer side of" diatribe.

I'm not sure if it's just the sentimentality of my 35th year or that cosmic need to be connected to folks and let's be honest, my wee brain isn't gonna go all Stephen Hawking on the subject. I'm just glad to have reconnected with some of my old cohorts.

What has brought me no end of glee are the funny stories that keep popping up. The Romper Room-ish antics from my past.

I spilled the beans once that I was an excellent fibber. The thing is - I forget how much I've actually gone a-fibbin'.

Here are just a few that have popped up (some I was reminded of, others I couldn't forget in a million years.)

Two-faced Mary: ask me about the "concept" band that I started with some girlfriends. Ask us where we play ("always out of town" - read: once). Ask me what instruments I play ("I'm a vocalist" - read: I can speak). Ask us how we can have so many pictures of us playing, if in fact, we don't ("we know people in the biz" - read: we've made out with a musician or two in our time)

Mig, Tig or Stic: On my trip to London I met up with an entire crew of masons at a local pub. I needed an "in", so I wouldn't have to drink my Old Speckled Hen alone. When one of them started talking about welding I said "Oh, mig, tig or stic?" Ok, I don't weld, but I used to work at an employment agency in my 20's and it was on the industrial application. I didn't buy another beer that night.

Shea, Abby and Quinn: I can't say for sure which one was me - but my two bestest friends in NYC were the other two. Sometimes you need a little alter-ego when you're hanging out in the big, scary city.

Step-sisters from 'bama: My bff K and I were going into this dodgy bar one night and needed a cover. Seconds before we opened the door, K said "Accents?". Suddenly we were step-sisters from Alabama whose "mama" and "daddy" had just moved the whole family "up No'th". We can't go to that bar anymore - 1.) I can't maintain a fake accent after 3 beers; 2.) Last time we were there CT's purse got stolen and she put a much-deserved "whammy" on the place.

The Psychic is In: (ok, I'd forgotten this one) While living in NYC, a sweet friend - DD (who I met on a Greyhound from New Hampshire to NYC) and I were hanging out in his 6x11 foot 5-floor walk up (ah, housing in NYC). Anyway - chat rooms were in, we were in one and we got everyone in it to believe we were a psychic. It's amazing what a bottle of red wine and a couple of wild imaginations can do.

Speaking of Fake Superpowers: A local pub in town has an annual event where everyone dresses like a freak. The first year I went, there was supposed to be a palm reader. Apparently she went and hooked up with somebody, 'cause she never showed up. My dogs were barkin' so I set up in her chair, had a friend stick a 5-dollar bill in a pint glass and before you know it I had a line out the door. I made $100 bucks that night telling fake fortunes.

These were just a couple that popped up in the last few weeks. But let me tell you this - when I'm an old woman, sitting in a wheelchair in some park - you definitely want to grab a seat next to me. I am gonna be able to spin such a yarn - you won't ever want to get up. Granted, in my 90's I'll probably think these stories are all true, but hell - I'll be 90. Who cares.

My friend, CT, has notoriously bad taste in movies (ok, just polar opposite of me) and was just telling me about this one written/directed by Bobcat Golthwait (ok, you tell me who has the bad taste) but regardless, it had this gem of a quote:

"It's important to lie. It's keeping up with the lies we tell about ourselves that make us better people." A load of crap? Probably, but one I don't mind getting a whiff of every now and then.