by E. Cleveland
I did not lie to my mother and some doctor about seeing dots in front of my eyes just to get glasses — because Bobby Johnson, only the coolest kid in second grade, had glasses — thereby impairing my vision for life. I never wore an extremely tight Howard the Duck t-shirt (awarded by 96 ROCK WKLS for correctly stating that "Video Killed the Radio Star" by The Buggles was the first video on MTV) on my first day of college. Nor did I slash razor marks in my forehead and sport a black t-shirt with the words "PAIN SINK" inscribed in red fabric paint, daily for a full semester, after the campus slut ended our two-day "relationship" and slept with all but two of the Northwestern Wildcats football organization. I did not drink four liters of cranberry juice to trick a drug test then try to fart while waiting for the train to the interview, soiling myself instead because cranberry juice softens the stool remarkably. In no way did I ever drunkenly give a crack addict my home telephone number at the suggestion of her four-foot tall pimp (who drove a comically overcompensating Ford F-250 Super Duty pickup truck), take her to Denny's where we changed tables, like, six times because she saw her grandmother's "likeness," then buy her groceries, resulting in her calling me several times at around 3 a.m. for a ride to Taco Bell. I did not take paid vacation days on Monday and Tuesday, September 10th and 11th, 2001, telling my boss I would be in New York City on those days just to avoid the mandatory two-day "Multicultural Sensitivity in The Workplace" seminar, subsequently becoming the office hero and having to tell the same lies about my purported ordeal until I quit three weeks later because it was just too weird...
6S
E. Cleveland, author of I, Inept Whore, writes as a means to avoid committing crimes. He lives in Los Angeles for his sins.