Lies, more lies, and damned lies…

I suck at lying. My kids know when I’m kidding because I can never keep a straight face. But DAMN, there are some times I’d love to be able to lie my ASS off. (Literally. It’s a big ass. It could stand some paring down.) I thought I’d share.

Lies I’ve told by omission:

To my department head when he wanted me to nail tardies, dress code, and eating in class:

“Absolutely–I’ll do my best to nail tardies and dress code. Yup. Tardies and dress code. I’m right on board with that. Tardies. Absolutely. I’ll definitely nail tardies.” (Sorry, guys, it’s hard to ban eating in class when I’m the one feeding them.)

To my husband when I saw the red-light camera flash, but I was pretty sure I was in the intersection already.

“No, sweetie–there SHOULDN’T be a ticket in the mail. I was just asking. You know. If you could see the camera flash. And not get a ticket. It was a question.”

To Chicken, after her one goal at indoor soccer, when I was out in the car changing the Cave Troll’s diaper. (Two years ago.)

“I know–you got a goal. That was AWESOME!”

Lies I’ve forced myself to believe so I can tell others in the name of being a responsible adult:

To my children when they realize they’ve left their homework elsewhere, stubbed a toe, forgot a meeting, omitted a phone call I wanted desperately to receive or allowed their younger siblings in their rooms:

“No, sweetie–it’s not good to swear.”

To my husband, on the two year anniversary of our gutted bathroom:

“It’s okay. I hardly notice it’s gone.”

To people who ask me on the forums:

“It’s just a troll. Doesn’t bother me in the least. No–I don’t dream about hunting trolls down with a harpoon and disemboweling them as they sit at their computer chortling–that would be cruel, like gutting a chinchilla for it’s fur. Chinchilla are nasty, vicious little vermin? Really? No–it never occurred to me that that makes them of more use to the world than internet trolls.”

To my children during dinner last Thursday:

“Potatoes cooked in bacon grease with extra bacon IS a vital source of nutrition and vitamins. Naw–hardly any fat at all. Really–approved by Better Homes & Gardens, I swear!”

Lies I’d tell if only I had the chance:

To my ex-principal, who not only killed the creative writing class but lost the paperwork two years running when I tried to get it reinstated:

“Oh yes–I’m being interviewed by John Stewart on education, politics, and the importance of fantasy fiction. I’LL BE SURE TO MENTION YOUR NAME!”

To my current principal, who likes me and supports me in every way, but whom I’d rather surprise with my success than freak out with a moral dilemma:

“I’ll be absent for a kid’s doctor’s appointment–it’s not like I’m getting interviewed by John Stewart or anything. As IF!.”

To my department heads whom I both adore and support, and irritate the crap out of but not on purpose because I like and support them:

“Well yeah, I’ll mention you if Stewart asks. But don’t worry. I’ll be sure to BE KIND!!!!”

To John Stewart if only he’d read my books and interview me:


0 thoughts on “Lies, more lies, and damned lies…”

  1. Louiz says:

    Ah… interview hey? Wohoo!

  2. Donna Lee says:

    All I can think of is “oh what a tangled web we weave”. I am not a good liar if it’s important. My face (it gets very red) gives me away. If it’s not important, I can lie with the best of them. Christmas gifts? I am the world’s best liar. I had Kate carrying a scooter around the mall for me (it was her gift) because I told her I would NEVER buy one (they’re dangerous) and it was for someone else. She believed me and complained the whole time. And she was speechless on Christmas Day.

  3. TinkingBell says:

    Hmm – lying – so good at the white ones (You look fabulous!! Of course you don’t look tired/fat/old/haggard – you look fantastic!) and not so good at any of the others!

  4. Who’s John Stewart? Oh wait, we’re talking lies. You forgot: the check is in the mail. Yes, I’ll get the house cleaned – soon as you do it.

  5. Galad says:

    I have the same problem as Donna Lee with my face giving me away when I lie. I try really hard not to as it just makes life easier.

  6. roxie says:

    In order to tell effective lies, you have to believe them yourself. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” “I tried really hard to make it to your Tupperware party, but . . .” “I don’t think I can make it in to work today. I seem to be coming down with something.”

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