Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics – The Big Reveal

You may recall that Kristine of Rescued Insanity gave me a Memetastic Award for which I shared some information about myself. To be more precise, I shared four half truths and one utter lie. Then I asked you to vote for the lie.

Here are the results:

25% of you thought that my running away with the circus and working as a clown was the lie.

Bnnnnnh. That’s a half truth. I never joined the circus but I did work briefly as a clown. Photographic evidence (although I’m not acting very clown-ey in this picture) follows.

Girl in Clown Costume

Oh, isn't it sad that I look skinnier in a clown outfit as a teenager than I do in regular clothes now.

No one thought it was a lie that a man vomited and passed out on the night he proposed to me. That is also a half-truth. My (now) husband did vomit after bringing me home from the dinner he proposed to me at but he did not pass out.

I guess the thought of marrying me was pretty scary. Somehow he found his inner courage and we’ll be celebrating 22 years of marriage this May.

Bride and Groom

I'm smiling because Mike promised he'd never throw up ever again.

37.5% of you thought it was a lie that I had swam across one of the Great Lakes.

Bnnnnh. Another half truth. I never swam across a Great Lake but I did swim across a Pretty Darn Good Lake, Cayuga, of the Finger Lakes region. The distance was over a mile of open-water swimming.

Kayak on Cayuga Lake

Kayaking is definitely the easier way to cross a lake.

Nobody thought it was a lie that I choreographed and performed in a dancing wheelbarrow act. Ahhh, you know me so well. I now realize that wasn’t even a half truth. We were televised. You can find the footage here, and you’ll find the wheelbarrows at 16:58.

And finally, 37.5% of you were correct when you guessed I have never jumped out of an airplane strapped to an Elvis impersonator. I am terribly afraid of heights and yet I don’t know what I would avoid more, an open airplane door or an Elvis Presley impersonator. For those who love the idea, check out the Flying Elvi, a team of parachuting Presleys.

So thank you, Ladies and Gentlemen, for playing our game. Join us next time for more hijinks and puppy games.

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Comments

  1. After my now-husband and I admitted that there were “feelings” between us, I threw up the next day over a railing positioned outside the University Faculty Club. I think it was lack of sleep, not anxiety. Maybe bad stomachs and good romance go together.

    • I guess if you can vomit near someone you love and they don’t go running for the door, you must have something real.

      • Mike Webster says:

        To set the record straight, I think the vomiting might have had more to do with mixing that double White Russian with a half bottle of white wine at our engagement dinner earlier that evening at a nice restaurant than with any anxiety. It was youthful drinking inexperience exacerbated by joy, and it was one of only two times in my life when I was truly stone drunk.

        Of course, I didn’t think I was drunk. When I got up from the dinner table, I noticed that I was slightly equilibrium challenged, but I didn’t knock over any waiters on the way out to the sidewalk. And I was able to walk a straight line down one of the sidewalk’s cracks. I remember saying, “I can’t be that drunk if I’m walking a straight line.”

        I didn’t know then that drunkenness manifests itself in me in a string of such pronouncements: “I mustn’t be that drunk because my speech is only a little slurred.” “I mustn’t be that drunk if I can find my way back to the bus stop.” “I mustn’t be that drunk if I can climb the steps onto the bus without assistance.” “Look, I’m sitting on the bus and the bus is driving in a nice straight line. I mustn’t be that drunk.”

        So, in retrospect, yes, I was drunk. But if the bus hadn’t jostled that strange mix of alcohol in my stomach for the twenty-five block ride back to Pam’s apartment, I might have gotten away without the vomiting part completely.

        Next time I ask Pam to marry me, I won’t mix my alcohol. And I’ll hire a taxi.

  2. I guessed wrong, but I enjoyed the heck out of your half lies. I don’t think I’d want to be in close proximity to an Elvis impersonator, either!

    • Of course, maybe being strapped to an Elvis would take my mind off plummeting at hundreds of miles an hour toward earth.