Lie to Me

Today could be a good day, because today is Tell-A-Lie Day. Now that's a run with scissors sort of holiday, and exactly what my life needs--controlled danger.

I tried spiffing up my life with niceness once. You know, smile like the village idiot, do good deeds, say please and thank you--that lot. I was pretty determined, even when this homeless woman began assaulting me with the wonderful salami and three cheese sub I had given her. I didn't stop being nice until the day my mother asked if I was feeling sick because, and this is classic, my smile looked like a grimace to her.

Yeah, I took a step back. If I looked in pain when I smiled, then smiling was not my natural state. Simple.

After that, I tried average, indifferent and mean. Some people say mean wasn't so much a phase as a blossoming of my inner Napoleon, but those people also thought that Catherine the Great was a tabloid handle for Catherine Zeta-Jones, so when they say Napoleon they probably mean Al Pacino.

And that's just silly. I've never had an inner Al Pacino. Maybe an inner Russel Crowe, before he did Master and Comander, which probably explains my need for excitement.

Let the lies begin.