2002-01-14 5:35 p.m. I don't think anyone sets out to become a compulsive liar. I don't think that's really anyone's life-goal. Ok, maybe the members of the U.S. House of Representatives, I'll give you that. But normal, everyday, non-special interest group fellators, I think we tend to shy away from the thought that we can't control our lies. I can't control my lies. Ok, maybe not in general. I mean if I lied about everything, than you couldn't believe the entire first paragraph of this entry. Nor could you believe this last sentence. Or this one. In fact, if I really did lie about everything, you would probably end up thinking so hard about what was fact (if any) and what was fiction (if any) that your head would just explode. And I don't want that to happen to you. Unless you're the guy that cut me off in traffic this morning. In a dumptruck. I mean really. Look at you Mr. Big Man. Mr. Bastard McJerkoff. There was plenty of room in front of me, but you apparently need to get into my middle lane (motto: "Dammit! I'm going fast enough, OK???") six inches right the fuck in front of my bumper. Other people's heads exploding? Bad. Yours? Not so much. But I digress. The point is, there's really only one situation in which I have become Lord of all that is Untrue. And that situation is the date that I never had this weekend. Remember the work people that I thought might think that I'm gay? Well I was talking to them on Friday, having the normal, 4pm-on-a-Friday "Got big plans for the weekend?" discussion. I mentioned grabbing dinner and a movie with my friend Amanda. They asked if it was a date and, sensing the opportunity to assert my flamboyantly hetero lifestyle gave them a rock-solid "maybe." Pause for a moment so that I can mention that in no way was Friday night a date. 'Man and I were doing dinner and then meeting her boyfriend so the three of us could see a movie. End of story. So today, when questioned about my 'date' over the weekend? I cracked. Somehow, someway, something gave inside of me. I started making stuff up about the dinner and the movie, and the nookie (Come on? The nookie. You can take that cookie�) and how we are basically friends with benefits but I don't like to label things b/c commitment freaks me out. Lies. Damn Lies. But at least there were no statistics. So, in the end, I put a nail in the coffin of my supposed homosexuality at the same time as I was putting a nail in the coffin of my dignity. One nail. Two coffins. God I'm good. downtown----uptown leave me a note, fool!

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