I started writing this post a while ago and forgot about it. I have rediscovered it and it’s just too sad and pathetic to keep from you.
A few months ago, Daniel and I had an argument about walnuts.
Yes, walnuts. Specifically the early stages of walnuts and what they look like. He told me the brown spiky ball things that live in your backyard were really walnuts.
He knows things. And I believed him. And casually mentioned this amazing new fact at work the next day, and my coworkers quickly proved that fact to be nothing more than a LIE. Which sparked the following text conversation:
|Note my sure-fire debating skills
In Daniel’s defense, they do look similar. Also in his defense, I will believe pretty much anything. Seriously. Try it out some time. My friends love it. I am pretty good about not believing obvious stuff, like that soap can talk (unless you know otherwise). But Daniel has a lot of general knowledge about life things and walnuts and so I usually believe what he tells me.
So after this happened, I jokingly asked him what else he’s lied about. He looked kind of uncomfortable, like when you really need to let out some steam, so to speak, but you’re in church so you can’t and you have to just hope it doesn’t escape on its own during a prayer. Then he told me something that I have never let go to this day:
“Well… you ask me a lot of questions. And you think I know the answers. And you look so eager when you ask them that I can’t stand to disappoint you, so… if I don’t know the answer, sometimes I make it up.”
Hold. The. Phone.
“You make it up?” I repeated. “What else have you made up so far?”
But he couldn’t remember. So I was left to wrack my brains, wondering what other lies I had told my friends and coworkers – or worse, what I had told them that they knew wasn’t true but, like Daniel, didn’t want to break the bad news to me.
Now that I was on to his scheme, I vowed to never let Daniel trick me into believing one of his “facts” again without verifying them. That lasted for about two days before I realized that was a lot of work. Daniel said he would try to keep the lies to a minimum and all was well.
Until the other day, when I pulled out a weird kitchen appliance thingy and asked Daniel what it was for. It was this bad boy right here:
“Oh, that? It’s for slicing apples.”
Neat. I hate slicing apples and this thing would definitely make it easier. So I got an apple from the fridge and started slicing. It sliced like a centimeter in and then stopped. I tried everything – a different angle, putting all my weight on it, working it back and forth like a saw. Daniel was watching me do all of this and offered to help, but I was determined.
But the thing was about to break from the pressure and I was no closer to apple slices. I gave up and got a knife and swore to get revenge on the apple slicer for being so useless.
I decided to look it up to see how other people did it. That was when I began to understand…I had been a victim of another of Daniel’s “facts.” Danggggitttttt.
“Uh, Daniel?” I said. “This says that the apple slicer is meant to make french fries, not apple slices. You use it with potatoes.”
“Ohhhhh, yeahhhhh, it’s potatoes! That explains why the apple was so hard to cut. Oh, well.”
So now I have to go back to Googling everything. Which is fine; it’s probably best that I do some research to defend against my gullibility so if I’m ever kidnapped by someone I won’t think they’re the President of the galaxy.
And now you can be prepared. If you see Daniel and he gives you a fact, just smile politely. Then Google that business the minute you get home.
(This post was written with Daniel’s approval and permission. I got a kiss for it. Yay!)