Tuesday, January 21, 2014

All Talk, No Walk

You know those people that start speaking to you and it's like 'Toot! Toot! All aboard the bullshit train!' Why do they do that? Sometimes I just want to have a normal conversation where everybody says things that actually happened; is that weird? But, of course not, because the difficulty level on this craaazy little thing called life is too high for them to exercise what we call 'integrity'.

There was this guy in high school that drove me up the wall with this shit! He lead a sad, boring little teenage life after the bell rang, so he had to lie to make himself sound more interesting and less like a friendless turd. And it was always about sex with this kid! He spoke of girls as if they were just monkeys in a forest full of his cock! Instead of them swinging from vine to vine, they were just swinging from a bunch of dicks - his dicks!

I swear, listening to this cat's stories was like operating a jack hammer without ear-safety equipment. Once he was telling me about this time he went over a girl's house and they started watching porn; for the purpose of this post, let's call her 'Alyssa'. Alyssa was like 'Hey! Would you like a drink? I've got juice or, um, Sprite?' and he replied 'Na! I'm good, but do you have any porn, by chance?' Of course, she eagerly exclaimed with a big 'Yeah!' Perfectly plausible story so far. So, they're watching the film and somewhere in the post-blowjob, mid-anal portion of this cine-sexual encounter, Alyssa turned to him and said 'I want to do that with you'. And then they did. I am paraphrasing of course because what I didn't mention is that all the way through the riveting telling of this tale, I'm distracted with trying to get to sleep in a tent, set up in the middle of some forest, on a school camp, in the throes of whether or not I should just douse myself in petrol right there and end this whole thing with a cigarette someone hopefully smuggled onto the trip!

I pleaded with this idiot to admit to me that what he had just wasted my time with was a complete fabrication, but that worthless piece of shit would not budge. He…would not budge at all!

My problem is that I have a pretty good gut about the authenticity of any recount. This gut is like a polygraph. I can never put my finger on what it is that tips me off, whether it's a gap in a detail or an over-embellishment, but when a person is lying, I just fuckin' know! On the odd occasion, it is just that burger I had earlier, but normally, if you're bullshitting, I'm unrolling the metaphorical toilet paper. I suspect the reason I've become so good is because I used to make shit up and exaggerate 'til the cows came home. From trying to convince people that I was a secret agent to twisting and remoulding something that happened to increase it's impact, I was a professional bullshitter, and you know the old chestnut, 'you can't bullshit a bullshitter'.

Now I know that these insecure people are just trying to lie their way into people's hearts and pants using their imaginations, but for me, they're just lying their way into a humiliating rebuttal and a subsequent disownment. Make no mistake, I'll pick them up on it. I'll make sure it's public to make me seem smarter, which is pivotal, and that it's known by everybody to make them seem stupider, especially if there are others around. I have no choice! I can't let people see me eat up shit like it's the truth! Who am I? Someone who eats up shit like it's the truth? (Did I say that already?) Also I won't want to be around them if we can't have a proper conversation! If I have to spend every single excruciating encounter wondering why what I'm being fed has a stench of garbage, the dynamic and simple pleasure of conversation is lost, and I'll want to slit their throat. (But it will be Halal, so it will be a-okay!)

I'm sure there were many people over the years that sad 'Boy, this Ryan is a nice guy. If only he'd stop lying! I might actually spend time with him!' And that's why I stopped, because sometimes people just want to have some toast and a normal conversation.

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