There have definitely been times in my life when I've thought, "Man, I wish I were a better liar." Or at the very least, "I really wish I were better at concealing the truth."
You know... just said nothing about the cherry tree at all, hoping no one would notice.
But I'm just not that kid. There's something deep in me that prohibits that kind of dishonesty, whether I like it or NOT.
If a cherry tree has fallen, it doesn't matter if I'm fault. It doesn't even matter how many other people can pretend it's alive and well. I'm gonna point it out. And probably in the most painfully awkward way possible.
In fact, I'll probably mumble it under my breath a half a dozen times until someone asks, "WHAT?" and I ultimately blurt something like, "TREE DOWN. I did it. I'm soooo sorry. I always hated cherries."
It's just who I am.
*This dog didn't smell like poo.
Unless it's about something really important, like a surprise party or shielding a friend from the news that her haircut is AW-FUL, I'm not a secret keeper. I'm not a truth shielder.
If you don't believe me just ask my mom about it, more specifically about the time I told her I had gotten a tattoo. Something I swore I wouldn't do until I was 45, but instead did a few months after getting it as a sign of my top secret independence.
I thought she might have seen it and so the next question she asked, which I think was something like, "Hey Jen, how are you today?" elicited a tear-filled (I imagine) confession. Which prompter her to begin immediate, fervent praying that I would not contract hepatitis C. (Thanks Mom. I think we're good.)
On second thought, though, let's not bring that up. I'm pretty sure she just stopped saying that one, so let's give her a much-deserved break.
Anyways, how 'bout the time not so long ago when I told my boss the world about throwing up brownies? Is there any better proof of my truth-serum like genetic makeup? I think not.
'Cause even when I know it would be more normal not to say it. When it would be beneficial to keep my ridiculous observation or embarrassing confession to myself, I just cannot seem to stop myself.
It's ridiculous. And frustrating. But, it's also what brings me here tonight. (And probably what led me to the second nerdiest* of hobbies - blogging - in the first place.) So forward we'll tread.
Believe it or not those random confessions aren't the reasons I bring up truthfulness tonight. NOPE. Tonight my utter candor is actually in the spirit of patriotism, hence the obscure Washington reference in case you were wondering.
That's right, to be perfectly honest, I don't have a clue when or why Memorial Day started.
I could go ahead and use this as an opportunity to talk about how maybe, just maybe, football teachers don't make the best US History teachers... but the simple fact is at 27-years-old and with almost constant access to Gore's practical invention, I think they're calling it "the Internet," the fault is mostly my own.
I mean, I know it has something to do with "troops, flag, America," that sorta thing. But other than that - insert crickets chirping - I got nothing.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll take some time to Google the matter after finishing this post.
But realistically, HONESTLY, I'm probably going to enjoy my red velvet cake bite and work on finishing another chapter of Tina Fey's genius memoir "Bossypants" instead.
And maybe that's the wrong choice, but I've always felt there's some saving grace in being completely (if stupidly and self-sabbotagingly honest). And it's in that foolish spirit I'll save the whole "what is Memorial Day thing?" until about this time next year. Or until one of you copies and pastes some Wikipedia in the comment section.
Shameless plug for Hastings. You're welcome brother.
There is yet another thing I am gonna admit to you, tonight, though. Something less patriotic and more practical.
(You can thank the caffeine and total heat exhaustion for this uncontrollable onslaught or randomness. And also throw in a thanks to Tina for giving me the false impression that people care about your true tales, which is less true when you're NOT a SNL alum, Emmy winner, or brilliant screen play writer. I digress...)
The exciting reveal is that this has been the BEST MEMORIAL DAY I can remember! Seriously! So awesome!!!
And I was tempted to leave it at that, truly I was.
But, in fairness, and Washington's honor, it's also the only one I remember.
I'm not sure why this holiday-I-don't-understand doesn't merit lots of ludicrous memories the way other events pre-marked on US calendars do, but for whatever reason I got nothing to compare this splendid day to. I seriously cannot recall a single other occasion.
Therefore, while I'd like to announce that this year wins by being fabulous, it's also winning by default.
So... you can make of that what you will.
The practical part of this testament, though, is that you can pretty much chalk any day spent near water up as a success... the rare exception, of course, is water seeping through your roof, particularly when it's from your neighbor's toilet (POO WATER, I believe, is the technical term). Holiday or not, scrubbing stink is not a winning way to spend a day.
But, pretty much all the other kinds: river water, lake water (preferably void of used syringes, sorry Lake Lavon), French water, mountain springs, that bottled water Jen Aniston (we're on a first nickname basis) peddles, coastal water, Water Boy... all good in my book.
And, speaking of, the one thing better than water on its own is... well, it's water with ice, if we're talking 'bout drinking it. But the correct answer, when talking about laying out seaside/river-side, is water and a book. Which I'm happy to report is precisely how I spent this splendid day.
And "Bossypants" was a perfect choice for some leisurely browsing whilest BAKING besides the Brazos River.
Why? 'Cause Tina Fey, like me, enjoys telling it like it is. She just happens to benefit from having much better true stories to tell. Which is one of the reasons it's possible to both LOVE and HATE someone all at the same time.
While I wish I could tie this all together a bit neater, I've only got 22 minutes of internet left, so for now this messy - wow am I sunburnt - recap for the day will have to do.
Yes, it has been completely pointless. But I hope you've enjoyed this little trip down Truthful Avenue nonetheless. (And in case you plan on visiting soon, or dropping off your cheating boyfriend/wretched child there soon, you can find Truthful Ave. just south of Memory Lane. It's the road with brighter street lights and abrasively blunt traffic signs!)
Just in case you haven't enjoyed this mess of musings - and/or you're just not a fan of the truth in general - I thought I'd throw in some less honest tunes to tickle your ears and fancies. (Scroll down.)
Happy super-important-America-rules holiday. And in all seriousness, for those of you that might be in a huff about it (like, say, the CIA agents paid to pour through the more politically-bent Typepad accounts for instance) I truly am grateful to live in this great nation... the land of the free, and the brave, and the $5 lattes.
We are eerily blessed, I tell ya. And that's something I don't want to take for granted. Like ballpark franks and the ability to speak my "mind," I will never get over how proud I am to be an American.
Extra TRUTHS:
*I do realize anyone can do a topical search of Youtube, but including eclectic song mixes in my posts makes me feel really cultured, diverse. And I like it. (After years of listening exclusively to contemporary Christian it is refreshing to refer to songs not written by Wayne Watson, okay?! Let me have this. Thanks.)
One of the reasons Why I should've stuck with softball.
*Today I bought sunflower seeds and I wasn't playing third grade softball, OR trying to stay awake while driving home from college. And YES, I did spit some onto my shirt sleeve while laying out. What of it? I'm a catch, I tell ya. At least that's what I told myself while eyeing the slobbery seed casings taking up residence on my tee.
*Michael Jackson is dead, may he rest in peace. BUT, that doesn't mean I can't talk about how creepy he IS/WAS while people watch "This Is It." I simply refuse to live in a world where it's wrong to say a grown man getting a nose job to look like an anime character is NOT okay. (This website may have gone a BIT too far, but it boasts compelling evidence. Just sayin'. If you need the visuals, please, check it out.)
*It's hard to ruin a day off work, but an excellent way to try is to put a person in a scenic locale, with a great book, and the soothing sound of waves crashing nearby... and then plop a dog that likes rolling around in poo right by her. Wet canine + fesces baking in the Texas heat = WOW! "Maybe I should have gone in to the office for a few hours..." I'm kidding of course, but only barely. A stench like that is hard to ignore/recover from.
*I've been reading with one eye shut a LOT lately, and I don't know if this means I'm slowly going blind in one eye or if I really want to be a pirate. I could tell you what I HOPE is the case, but I don't know if my apartment allows parrots, so this is one secret I am gonna sit on for a while. :)
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