I cannot tell a lie

Carol Kilgore from Under the Tiki Hut, tagged me with this thing called an I Cannot Tell a Lie mime. Here's what this thing is about.

"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."

Pride: What is your biggest contribution to the world?

I was in high school supplementing my allowance doing odd jobs at the Menlo Park Veterans Hospital when this skinny guy who said he was a Stanford grad student came in looking for the government research project that was advertising for volunteers. Since I emptied the trash I knew the project so I led him to the lab.
“What do you study?” I asked
“Creative writing.”
“Does it pay?”
“No,” he said. “I’m looking to score a few bucks from this research thing. Haven’t eaten in a couple days. You know what this projects about?”
“Naw. Consumer research I think. They go through a lot of packets of Kool-aid and cookies.”
“Crap,” he said. "I was hoping for some real food."
“There’s some other stuff called LDS.
“Latter Day Saints?”
“How would I know? I got this thing called dyslexia. Letters get all mixed up for me.”
“Whatever,” he said. He looked kind of sad. And hungry.
“What’s your name?” I said.
“Kesey.”
On the way out of the lab I saw the file folders for the experiment. Mr. Kesey’s was in the control group. I knew they gave the experimental group extra cookies, so I moved Mr. Kesey’s folder to that pile. A few weeks later, I saw Mr. Kesey. He looked happy and satisfied and his eyes seemed on fire with the knowledge of the universe.
“How was the Kool-aid and cookies, Mr. Kesey?”
He winked and said, “You’re either on the bus, or you’re off the bus, kid.”

Envy: What do your co-workers wish they had that is yours?

I have an uncanny ability to predict winning lotto numbers, but I never make use of that skill. My co-workers are always trying to get the numbers out of me, but I won’t divulge them. You see I was educated by socialist nuns who instilled in me the belief that it is wrong to profit from the labor of others. Later I spent time in an ashram where I was taught about the continuity of all matter, animate and inanimate. So I believe it is wrong to profit from any work that’s not one’s own, including the work of little white balls. I wish I had the ability to make my co-workers understand.

Gluttony: What did you eat last night?

Thai food: a red curry beef called penang nua, a soup of lemon-grass and shrimp called thom yam gung, some pork fried in peppers called moo phat prik, a fish fried in tamarind sauce called bla rad prik, and some fried morning glories called pak boong fai dang. All of the dishes were heavy on the Thai peppers and garlic. When we finished dinner, my lips were on fire and when I woke up this morning I felt like someone was holding a match to my rear end.

Lust: What really lights your fire?

Accordion music. The way you get those sweet sounds from that instrument by squeezing it and dancing your fingers up and down the sides is just like making love to a beautiful woman. You hold the instrument tight against your chest just as you would hold your main squeeze. Is there any instrument that is more intimate? Well maybe a Sousaphone, but this is a family blog.

Anger: What is the last thing that really pissed you off?

Mimes like this one that propagate around the internet from blogsite to blogsite. According to The Daily Mime, these things are viral and mutate as they spread, sort of like H1N1 or Hantavirus. How can that be good? Shouldn’t homeland security be on it? Where are they coming from? I figure France because of the beret. How porous are our borders if Frenchies are getting through?

What's really irritating about these mimes is how they disrupt a guy's work. Here I am, contemplating a writing topic to blog about, typing random stripper names into the Google search box, then getting a beer, then checking out Sports Illustrated online and wondering why female pole vaulters are so hot, when this mime interrupts my work. I’m ready to punch its white face and seal it in an imaginary box forever . . .

What? This is a MEME? It's not a MIME? I'm sorry, I thought Carol sent me some Ritalin-abusing, striped-shirt dork. I take back all the bad things I thought about Carol.

So why are pole vaulters so hot?

Greed: Name something you keep from others?

My copy of Winnie the Pooh in Latin. Winnie Ille Pooh.

“Ubi est Piglet,” dixit Pooh.

Sloth: What's the laziest thing you've ever done?

I got tired of dusting under our furniture so I tied a string to a catnip mouse and sprayed our cat with Endust. Then I dragged the mouse under the furniture.

I have to call it a day. I'll figure out who to tag later.

Well It's later and I have tagged Marvin Wilson and Harvee Lau