Moochness

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

Little Lies

I have always been an appalling liar. OK, occasionally I tell a white lie, but it never goes beyond a fib, because I am too convinced that whomever I am lying to will just know I am not telling the truth. Which is usually the case, since I don't have the confidence in my lying abilities to sound convincing! I think this dates back to my fear of my mother catching me in a lie - somehow, she could always spot a lie from a mile off, and I'd always get in more trouble than if I hadn't bothered to lie at all. Well, that's what she used to tell me, anyway.

In addition to my fear of being "caught out", there are some things that it would just never occur to me to lie about.

I was chatting to my housemates (Cookiemaster and Fitnessfreak) a couple of nights ago about the girl with whom they used to share the house, and to whom I am eternally grateful, as if she hadn't accepted a job transfer to Melbourne, I could well be living in a cardboard box right now. Or at least sharing a house with some unsavoury types. Anyways, my housemates shared the house with this girl for about 12 months. She was a lovely girl, lots of fun to be around, and she always had an interesting story to tell. Sadly, her father (back in Melbourne) was quite an ill man - he had problems with his heart, and had had a number of "episodes" in recent years, culminating with a heart attack around Christmas last year.

It was only as the months passed that my housemates began to suspect that this girl was perhaps "embellishing" her stories a tad. She convinced my flatmates that they should all go along to see the Lion King in Sydney, and offered to organise tickets. A week before the performance, the tickets still hadn't arrived in the mail, and when Cookiemaster asked if the tickets were on the way, this girl said yes yes, of course, they're coming. When they still hadn't arrived 2 days before the event, she said that she had rung Ticketmaster and they had advised that the tickets had been sent, but there had been a spate of "letterbox raidings" and someone may well have stolen their tickets.

Cookiemaster found out a little later that the flatmate had just changed her mind and decided she didn't want to see the Lion King after all.

So the ex-housemate is now living back in Melbourne. She really didn't want to leave Canberra - she really loved living here, and her job was great, and she enjoyed sharing a house with Cookiemaster and Fitnessfreak. But she felt she should take the transfer so she could be closer to her sick father, who had to have a double-bypass operation (NOT because her dodgy on/off boyfriend who's given her lots of grief lives there).

Dodgy on/off boyfriend rang Fitnessfreak a week or so ago to organise having ex-housemate's mail forwarded on:

Fitnessfreak: So how's is ex-housemate's dad going? I hope he's OK.

Dodgy on/off bf: ...um yeah, he's OK, a bit stressed I think but apart from that he's fine.

Fitnessfreak: Yeah, well I guess it would be a pretty stressful time, with the surgery and all.

Dodgy on/off bf: ....um...surgery?

Fitnessfreak: Yeah, I mean having a heart bypass is a pretty major operation, isn't it!

Dodgy on/off bf: .......

Fitnessfreak: But I guess having the operation is a good thing, if it means he won't have any more heart problems. It's just awful that he had that heart attack, and at Christmas, too!

Dodgy on/off bf: ....um...heart problems??


Hmmm. I guess our house is a much duller place with me around, lacking any compulsive creative lying instincts whatsoever.

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