Stunning Admission #9
April 6th, 2006
I’m just going to come out and say it.
It’s not like I’m hurting anyone, first of all. That’s the first thing you have to understand before you get all in a huff about today’s stunning admission. It’s something I do for ME and for no one else. It’s something I can’t control.
I have not sought out professional help because I don’t think I need professional help for such a thing. It’s just something I do to pass the time when I’m waiting in line or with a group of people I’ve never met before.
Today’s stunning admission? I like to lie about ridiculous stuff.
Before you get up from your ergonomically-correct thousand-dollar mesh office chair and shake your fist in the air while giving me your over-the-Internet digital frown, know this and know this 100%: I am not hurting anyone but myself.
I am not lying to people about that grant coming through or about my intentions to run for Congress. I am not lying to people about picking them up at the museum at 5 or about donating money to the Handicapped Olympic Games. I am not lying about my time in Iraq and how I freed a whole town of hostages nor am I lying about the fact that I actually ran into Scott Baio, Patrick Swayze, Kristy McNichol or any other celebrity.
I am lying about stupid stuff that no one cares about.
Why, just the other day I was standing in line at the local supermarket when the cashier looked at my driver’s license and saw my last name:
Cashier: “Your last name is Davidson?”
Me: “Yup.”
Cashier: “Like, John Davidson? The host from That’s Incredible?”
Me: “My uncle.”
Cashier: “Wow. Haven’t seen him in forever. How’s he doing?”
Me: “Well, he had a hernia operation recently, but other than that he’s doing really well. Did you know he’s actually older than Dick Clark but looks twenty years younger than him because he has his blood regularly switched out and cleaned, then returned back to his blood stream?”
Cashier: “Uh, no. I didn’t know that.”
No one’s future was sullied. John Davidson’s future career opportunities weren’t crashed on the rocks of despair. No. It just happened to seem like the right thing to do, at that moment, to admit he was my uncle and that he was having blood transfusions. A harmful little lie that I couldn’t stop myself from telling.
There was a moment last year, when I drove my car into a local gas station body shop after a nail had punctured the back left tire. The nail wasn’t there anymore, but the hissing of the escaping air was unmistakable.
Mechanic: “Drove over a nail, huh?”
Me: “No idea — I was too busy chasing a hit and run driver.”
Mechanic: “Serious?”
Me: “The police had already put down one of those spike-strips to blow out his tires and I swung my steering wheel hard to the left as I saw his tires blow out… I almost pulled free of the spike strip, but as you can see, it nicked the back left tire.”
Mechanic: “Spike strips usually will take out the whole tire, not just poke a hole.”
Me: “This was one of those older spike strips. The police out here are hurting for funds.”
The local police didn’t care. The news didn’t change the mechanic’s life at all. My lie about stupid stuff did nothing more than provide myself and my newfound car expert with a few extra tidbits of conversation to chew on.
Sure, the pure ones of the world may look down on me with disdain. They may shake their fists at me while I tell people about my fear of midgets because of the “Incident of 1983.” They may whisper about my horrific ways behind my back as I inform the girl at the hair salon that I always wanted to be a professional street luge guy but that it never happened because I just never found the dedication inside of me that I would need for such a thing. Sure, people might look down at me and try to tell me to change my ways — but if all I’m doing is lying about stupid things, like the time I think I heard the other version of me from another dimension try to contact me through the TV — I shouldn’t be judged at all.
It’s not like I’m lying about Santa Claus not existing or anything.
So…yes. While today’s Stunning Admission #9 may make you think less of me or make you wonder just who brought me up and what kind of values they taught me — what you have to remember is that I’m not lying about my taxes, my college degree or my work history. I’m not lying about how I feel about you, your family or your dog. I’m not lying about my health, your lab results or the fact that I once had a TV show on cable access where No Doubt appeared “before they were stars.”
I’m just lying about stupid stuff.
I mean, is that so bad?
—
Don’t forget! Tomorrow brings us yet another edition of “Words For Your Enjoyment”! That’s where you submit an idea, I place it under a microscope, get the word-doctors to give it a full physical, and then potentially let it free into the public consciousness. Maybe.
I already kinda figured this about you so I do not think less of you. I just wonder what you think of the people that actually believe you. Do you think they are stupid? Gullible? Or maybe we should be asking what they think of you? Or maybe you just don’t care. (probably the latter).
Kids used to always ask me if I was related to Burt Reynolds and I would tell them he was my uncle and I went and saw him on summer vacation. They would ask me to get his autograph for them and I would make up stories for why I didn’t get them. I did it for fun. I also told a little girl in my 5th grade class that I was cousins with Ricky Shroeder and I would write her fake letters from him.
Now do you think less of me since my lies weren’t as humorous as yours?
Comment by Jacquie — April 6, 2006 @ 7:38 am
Jacquie - Your cousin is Ricky Shroeder? God, I loved Silver Spoons. Can you get him to write me a letter? Something nice, like “I am so your new best friend” or “sure you can come visit me on the set of NYPD Blue.”
Something like that?
Wait. Are you lying or is he really your cousin?
Comment by Pauly D — April 6, 2006 @ 7:42 am
Heh, I do the same thing, so you’re not alone in this one. All my life people have asked me if I was related to Leif Ericson (even though my last name is spelled totally different). I got tired of it, so now when people ask if we’re related I answer, “Yeah, he’s my great-great uncle.” More often than not they’ll reply, “Oh wow, really?”
Comment by Karl — April 6, 2006 @ 8:01 am
If lying about stupid stuff gets monotonous after a while… try lying with an accent to mix things up and make lying exciting again. I’ve moved past my British lying accent and have started in on a Southern accent for my current lies.
Comment by Dave2 — April 6, 2006 @ 8:25 am
I tell people that I used to be married, “but now he’s in the Witness Protection Program…I think.”
Comment by Flower Girl — April 6, 2006 @ 8:43 am
What I find most disturbing (more than the lying) is the fact that someone is using up precious brain cells to instead retain useless information such as the host’s name of “That’s Incredible!”
That’s the REAL crime in this story.
Comment by Kristi — April 6, 2006 @ 8:43 am
See, I’d totally fall for your lies, except for one thing. Your description of John Davidson as looking “twenty years younger than Dick Clark” would totally give you away. How do I know this is a lie? Last year some friends and I fell into a little John Davidson obsession which consisted of frequenting his website to listen to streaming tracks of his songs and marvelling at the state of his thick, silvery mane. We’d have started following him on tour, but we got distracted by The Hoff and Clay Aiken.
Everything else you wrote, though? Totally plausible.
Comment by Danielle — April 6, 2006 @ 8:58 am
Until the next time you go to the grocery store and that cashier, banking on the validity of your claims, shows up with her entire family and friend base full of fans of “That’s Incredible” bearing get-well gifts and requests for autographs from your “Uncle”. Then how will you feel?
Comment by Kevin — April 6, 2006 @ 9:00 am
I will never trust you again, Paul Davidson. I feel so deceived. I had no idea you could have such an evil streak in you!
Ridiculous things, you say? Well, I didn’t think the idea of you setting me up on a date with Michael Vartan was at all ridiculous. I’m only bringing it up because I now realize you were lying about knowing him and that I would be getting a phone call soon. I feel totally gullible since I was still waiting for that phone call, even though it’s been 2 years - but I trusted you, Paul.
Stunning admission indeed.
*sob*
Comment by the swede — April 6, 2006 @ 9:00 am
Oh, here’s something I forgot to mention. Chastity Bono went to my elementary school for a few months back in the late 70s. Cher would pick her up at the end of the day.
And that’s the troof.
Comment by Danielle — April 6, 2006 @ 9:00 am
You’re just trying to shake things up a little bit…keep people on their toes. It’s social disruption for the public good. Yeah…
Comment by Adri — April 6, 2006 @ 9:01 am
Swede - Michael Vartan never called? It must be because of the car accident he got in, which put him into a coma, and usually when people wake up from comas they forget who they were supposed to call pre-coma.
So, don’t get all hating on my butt because of something I can’t control.
Comment by Pauly D — April 6, 2006 @ 9:03 am
i totally already knew this about you. i feel completely gypped by this “stunning admission.”
p.s. it is kinda scary how good you are at it though. . .
Comment by ms. sizzle — April 6, 2006 @ 9:04 am
My sweet Pauly D. Yes, you make ridiculous stuff up. However, check out the side view of Mr. Johnny D. Hmmmm…look at that dimple, smile, and the little glimmer of naughty. Hmmmmmm. It does make one wonder.
Once again…my shallowness is coming out.
C
Comment by Thoughtsgalore — April 6, 2006 @ 9:29 am
My last name is “Sawyer”. People ask me if I’m related to Tom Sawyer. I got tired of saying, “You idiot, Tom Sawyer was a fictional character,” so I just started saying “yes.”
Comment by Curt Sawyer — April 6, 2006 @ 10:34 am
When I moved to a new town in junior high, I told the kids at my new school that I was Italian, and spoke the language fluently. I would rattle off gibberish in a stereotypical “Italian” accent, and they totally bought it. But one day my older sister came to pick me up, and unwittingly blew the cover on my fake identity. I saved face only by announcing that I was doing research for a magazine article I planned to write about how kids of other nationalities are treated differently. Then I wrote the article and turned it in as an assignment. All was forgiven.
See? Writers are SUPPOSED to be good liars.
Comment by SJ — April 6, 2006 @ 11:36 am
That’s incredible!!! I was googling my name (John Davidson) to see if anyone was still talking about me and I found your site.
It’s so ironic that you did this because the other day I was in Barnes and Noble and the cashier said “YOUR JOHN DAVIDSON?” And I was all ready to sign my autograph when she said “Are you by any chance related to that famous author of “Consumer Joe” and soon to be released “The Lost Blogs” as well as many magazine articles? ”
To which I replied “Oh, my nephew?”
And if it makes you feel better (or your readers of today’s post) the story about the blood transfusions is actually quite true.
PS, let me know if you would like to be a guest on Hollywood Squares sometime.
Love, Uncle John
Comment by Johnny D — April 6, 2006 @ 12:24 pm
Well, I WAS telling everyone I was the Mr. Six Flags dancing old guy until YOU outed someone else and ruined it for me. Thanks again.
Comment by susan — April 6, 2006 @ 1:16 pm
It’s one thing to lie to total strangers, but I used to make up elaborate lies about my family and convince my little sister they were true. I had my sister convinced for about 3 months once that I was really an alien and had been adopted by my parents. I had an invisible alien brother that only I could see and I would talk to him to freak her out. Hmmmm…maybe that wasn’t a lie…
Comment by Nicole — April 6, 2006 @ 1:29 pm
I lie about harmless little things. Just the other day a couple of kids started singing, “Who let the dogs out?”
“I did,” I told them. “They had to pee.”
Comment by Rabbit — April 6, 2006 @ 2:35 pm
This reminds of a regular section in the old Mad Magazine — “Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions.” So these may not actually be lies. Sorry to disapoint.
Comment by DJ — April 6, 2006 @ 3:44 pm
I wasn’t hurting anybody either when I lied about having almost failed college microeconomics! (I know Coco told you about that, but I’ve decided that being friends with somebody who lies about something like that is much lamer than actually lying about it so in the end I won.) Plus, I was proving a point that needed to be made. Just because it happened to be based on an entirely fabricated story doesn’t make the point any less important. I knew you’d understand.
-E
Comment by Esmee — April 6, 2006 @ 3:51 pm
But… how do we know you’re telling the truth now?
I was (and as far as I know, still am!) always the one on the receiving end of this kind of stuff. When we were wee children, my friend Natalie spent an afternoon convincing me that a cupboard door in her garage led to a game room full of couches, a ping-pong table, and even a swimming pool. I bought this hook, line, and sinker, and was truly excited about it until she opened the cabinet and revealed the rows of boring cleaning supplies within.
Ah, well. The world needs gullible people too.
Comment by Erin MJ — April 6, 2006 @ 9:18 pm
i have developed nearly an art of convincing people i have not said the very thing that just came out of my mouth. if you sort of mumble and talk real fast, you can say whatever you want - then bluff up a storm when they do a double take. i transition smoothly from “my word, you’ve gotten fat!” to “i’m sorry - didn’t hear that?”…and other things of this nature. so really, i suppose i’m telling the truth. and…then…lying about it.
Comment by belle — April 7, 2006 @ 3:31 am
one of my best friends has the same first name as i do, and you wouldn’t believe how many people used to ask us, “are you two sisters?” with the exception of george foreman, i didn’t think anyone else gave their kids the same name, but we always answered, “why, yes!” anyway.
i am short, dark, and filipino and she is tall and so white she’s blue. still, our inquisitors were none the wiser.
Comment by dgm — April 7, 2006 @ 11:57 am