the Hippo Brigade

Compulsive liar

3 Comments

January 19, 2011

I feel like I should say something to you.

Like I should tell you secrets. Interesting dark secrets.

Mainly because I haven’t updated this blog in a while, and I’m starting to feel guilty and monumentally uninteresting.

I keep pausing throughout my day thinking, this could make an interesting blog post.

And then I’m like, no. No one wants to know about my nightly cuddle sessions with my pug where she lets me spoon her, and I let her lick my eyelids.

So then I end up back here, at my computer, with my thinking face on. Which coincidentally, looks a lot like my opening a-hard-to-open-jar-of-peaches-face and also my-drinking-hot-liquids-face.

But I don’t have any interesting dark secrets.

Although I used to be a compulsive liar. That’s mildly interesting, right?

I remember when I was in 2nd grade I used to watch TGIF like a crazed junkie. I even named my hamster Balki Bartokomous.

That’s a lie. I never had a hamster. We were an average family with average pets. We never even had a fish or a bird. Just cats and dogs. But the point is, If I was allowed to have a hamster, I would have named him Balki Bartokomous.

So, 2nd grade I remember standing in the lunch line to get my second sloppy joe and telling everyone around me that Candace Cameron was my cousin.

As you could imagine all my lunch-mates were captivated. I heard many gasps and the shuffle of tiny feet inching closer to me so they could hang on my every word.

I told them that she would pick me up in her limo and we’d go to her house and swim in her giant pool.

Some fat kid in the back of the line piped up, “So that means you’re Kirk Cameron’s cousin too, because they’re brother and sister.”

“Yeah, obviously,” I snorted. “I didn’t mention him before because we’re in a fight right now. He wants to take my hamster Balki for a sleepover, and I won’t let him. So, he’s mad at me.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

It seemed to make sense to my 8-year-old classmates that my bond with my fictitious hamster outweighed my bond to my fictitious cousin.

And so it went; the giant lie I told all my friends in 2nd grade about being related to the biggest stars on television in 1988.

At one point it got a little out of control. People wanted to know if the Camerons could pick me up from school so they could see their limo, and possibly take them swimming too. Teachers were curious if Kirk Cameron was single, and if I could give him their number. There were too many lies to keep up with, so one day I just stopped answering their questions.

School friend: Hey Beckey, what kind of sandwich does Candice Cameron eat at lunch time?

Me: ((Silence))

School Friend: Do you think she’ll kiss her boyfriend on tonight’s episode?

Me: ((Looks down))

School Friend: Don’t they live in San Francisco? That’s far from here, huh? Must be a long limo drive to her house then, right?

Me: ((Walks away))

There was a lot of pressure involved in being related to famous people.