Sarah Dooley tagged me in this post. We'll get to my task in a sec, but first, let's talk a little about Sarah Dooley's blog. Sarah just recently added a following option to her blog and I highly recommend you click on it. Why? Because unlike the frivolous nonsense you get here at Murphblog, Sarah's posts have meaning. Her blog positively drips with significance. It is near to bursting with poignancy. Her words have resonance. And it's well-written. Here's an example. Read it and weep.
So, the meme. For those of you who did not click the earlier link (slackers), it is called...
And is thusly described:
"Sometimes you can learn more about a person by what they don’t tell you. Sometimes you can learn a lot from the things they just make up. If you are tagged with this Meme, lie to me. Then tag 7 other folks (one for each deadly sin) and hope they can lie."
And now, my lies:
Pride: What is your biggest contribution to the world?
I would say my back hair. My back hair is revolutionary. It is thick, lush, vibrant. I have recently taken to styling it. Yesterday, as the mercury hit 80 degrees, I pulled off my tanktop to fully reveal a perfectly coifed pompadour of back hair. My plan is to take pictures--my back hair in a 1960s bouffant, spiky cornrows like Coolio, bleach blonde and feathered like Farrah--and post these pictures on highly trafficked websites with the purpose of inspiring all men who have been lucky enough to be so endowed to fashion their own new styles and display them proudly at public beaches, local swimming pools, and in the centerfield bleachers of baseball stadiums across this great land.
Envy: What do your coworkers have that you wish was yours?
My coworkers-- teachers, you will recall-- are mostly older ladies. They are all in possession of some fine sweaters. Mrs. Worthington owns a black sweater with a large snowman running down one side and blue snowflakes dotting the other. Mrs. Patrick often dons her Halloween sweater--there's a huge, frightening jack o'lantern on it--on Fridays, no matter the time of year. Similarly, many of the ladies wear thematic socks. And let us not forget their fine selection of tote bags. DARE tote bags, science conference tote bags, "To Teach is To Touch a Life Forever" tote bags. I am drowning in my own envy.
Gluttony: What did you eat last night?
As always, I ate words. I devoured words. Last night, it was James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. I didn't read it of course, much too challenging with all the references to Irish society and whatnot, but I did eat the book, page by page. It tasted vaguely of oatmeal. (I sprinkled the pages with cinnamon.) It was not the most satifying meal; that honor still belongs to The Order of Odd-Fish. Delicious words in that one. Ever dined on calumny? Exquistite.
Lust: What really lights your fire?
The unstoppable combination of holiday themed sweaters and tote bags.
Anger: What is the last thing that really pissed you off?
I have a cowlick in my back hair that causes me endless frustration.
Greed: Name something you hoard and keep from others.
My genius. Here's the truth: I have ghost written the following novels, perhaps you have heard of them: Love in the Time of Cholera (I was nine at the time), Atonement: A Novel, Siddhartha, Angela's Ashes, and Of Human Bondage (for which I ask your forgiveness). This blog and the pedestrian "humor" it contains is merely a front, designed to keep my secret from a suprisingly fragile world. My genius, if found out, could destroy nations. It could topple regimes. It could consume itself, thereby creating a black hole of creativity that would suck all original thought from the planet. What would we do without Dilbert?
Sloth: What's the laziest thing you ever did?
While lying on the couch, I once attempted to turn on the television with only the power of my mind. But once I got a headache, I gave up and took a nap... Actually, that may not be a lie.
I now tag the following people, people who I know to be accomplished liars:
Big Plain V