Leslieisms.....or as my husband calls them, "lies"

I'm compiling a list of my more infamous "leslieisms" ....or as my husband calls them, "lies". By nature I'm really not a liar. I'm neither deceitful nor wiley--I swear. It's comforting to know that I'm actually a terrible liar. But from time to time I find myself in a pickle and I have to try and weasel my way out. As pathetic as some of the stories may be, I still give futile attempts at recovery. Some even work!



I'll start with earlier lies...er, Leslieisms and work my way up to adulthood.



Teen Years:

Had a huge bash at my house. My parents were in NY for the weekend. I told a few people, they told a few people and so on and so forth. It's the oldest story in the book. Next thing I know, I was face down on my family room floor being awoken by the police. Quite a hostess I was, even then. The police asked where my parents were, I told them Meijers. On my fridge was a very large note that read, "LES, HERE'S THE NUMBER WHERE WE'LL BE STAYING IN NYC. STAY OUT OF TROUBLE!!". So, those tricky cops put two and two together and figured out that I wasn't being so truthful. Fast forward to Sunday night, when the 'rents arrived home. There I sat, looking so pitiful on my couch (the house had never been so clean). I cried and cried about how all the senior girls spread rumors about a party and they just showed up and being a meek little sophomore, what was I supposed to do? In fact, I'd even considered calling the police myself, because wasn't it you who told me to always call the police if I were in trouble? It was awful, I'm so glad you're home. Boy, did I learn my lesson. Well, they reluctantly bought it. I did the obligatory time, one month's grounding and then all was to be forgiven. That is, until I got my film developed. Like a donkey, I made a collage of all my party photos and placed it on the back of my bedroom door. I figured, why the heck would she ever be in my room with the door closed? Well, that logic lasted for about, oh, um, 14 hours. Pictures of me doing keg stands and beer bongs cluttered my door. Images of virginal me sitting (laying) on every guy's lap trying to weasel my way into a picture. There was actually a photo of me, standing at the "bar" playing bartender in my mother's apron with one of her Virginia Slims hanging out of my mouth. I must have thought that was the epitome of sophistication! Needless to say, my month's grounding was elevated to hard time, where I remained grounded for the rest of my Sophomore year. I was mad at myself, really.

Another dandy was when I snuck out of the house to (what else) drink beer with my pals. When I got home, I hid the rest of the beer under my chimney. You may recall that beer was somewhat hard to come by as a teen, so when there was leftovers, we hoarded it. I made such a ruckus that my 75 year old step father came out to ask what was up. I slurred, "shhhhhhh, it's mom's mother's day present, I'm hiding it". He gave me the okie-doke sign and winked at me, like he was down with the hi jinx and whatnot. Flash forward 3 weeks and of course, the only mother's day present for my mother was a drunken 16 year old passed out in her bed with her clothes on backwards and leaves in her hair.



During my aforementioned grounding, I missed a few key holidays, but darned if I was going to miss New Year's Eve '89. I told my mother that I was babysitting. My friend picked me up in his '85 Camero and he was wearing a blue helmet on his head. He always wore that helmet when he drove, I still don't know why, but, heck if it didn't crack me up every time I saw him. Anyway, I went to a party of a girl that was in our class. Her parents were extremely wealthy but we couldn't stand her. We only went because her parents were gone. I may or may not have ashed in her permed & frosted hair a few times and when she'd turn around, I'd just smile wildly and wave at her. It was a fine friendship, really. I even got ballsy (which 38 beers will tend to do) and I called my parents to wish them a Happy New Year!!! More like, "hic.....Appy Hue Near, mom. Shooooot no, they're not home yet....it'll prolly be anudder few hours...what, oh, all dat noises....Dick Clark's Rockin' Nuyeers, a'course....bye"!!! Got away with it, hook, line and sinker. Cue to Leslie, rubbing my knuckles on my chest after huffing on them.



Tried to leave a different house party in order to make curfew. The hostess had a circular driveway and I was blocked in by about 400 cars. There was a rock garden in the middle of the circle, which normally would be an obstacle, but not for me, why I just drove right over it. The next day, my 75 year old step father screams, "Jesus Cheeerist, Les, what the hell did you hit?" Hm? What's that, a dent, you say? You know, come to think of it, there were a lot of plow trucks out last night, I wonder if one of them hit me. So, he and my mother took my car to the police station the next day, filed a report and allegedly the police told them that the damage was in fact, consistent with that of a plow truck. Cue to Leslie taking a bow.



College Years



Every TIME, I mean EVERY TIME I got drunk, I told people that my boyfriend beat me. I realize now that domestic abuse is no laughing matter, but it was big fun back in the early 90's. I loved the attention, but really I just wanted to break up with him and frankly, I was sick of my friends liking him better than me.



Out ran the cops on WMU's campus in my Ford Tempo. Finally pulled over and told the police that he was scaring me, that's why I wouldn't stop.



Got a speeding ticket after doing the walk of shame. Make that the drive of shame. I fought the ticket and told the judge that I was speeding because there was a bee in my car and I was highly allergic to bees. Never mind that the ticket was issued in February, but by the time my court date was set, it was June. Bada Boom Bada Bing, ta-ta ticket!



Because college was such a blur and I really don't even recall graduating, these are really all of the lies, er..Leslieisms that stick out in my mind. Now, onto adulthood.



Present day

I've used the old, "I'm going to be late, I got stuck behind a funeral procession....ugh, you know how that can be" at least a million times. It's a dandy!



I know this one sounds plain ridiculous, but it's true. I told my employer that I couldn't go to work because my cat ate a poisonous bug and I had to keep an eye on him. (True lie, honest)!



I told a different employer that I sprained my ankle. Then, I rented crutches from Walgreens to cover my tracks. I'm too sneaky for m'self!

I signed a contract with a martial arts gym. After weeks and weeks of hellish kick boxing, I had to get out of it. I plotted and schemed, but nothing was going to get Master Kim to let me out of the contract. Finally, I had a friend in Chicago write me up a fake lease on fake letter head with a fake offer letter from a fake company. I'm now realizing that for all that trouble, I, myself could have drafted up all of these fake documents. It seemed more authentic to have an out of town friend do it, though. The post mark, you see....always check the city's postmark. I'd make a hella criminal, don't you think? Master Kim finally let me off, but I think he simply grew tired of my pestering. Had I put as much energy and effort into kick boxing as I did to getting out of kickboxing, I'd be a bad ass by now.

I told everyone at my sister's 2nd wedding (where I didn't know a soul) that she was approximately 14 years older than she really was. Actually, that's not altogether true. Sometimes I reduced her age by 14 years too, it just depended on who I was talking to. But, I was very consistent with a 14 year difference. Considering she had small children at the time, it made the story ever-so interesting. I loved watching the look on her new in-laws faces as they tried to process this new information. I said other things that night too, like, "pssst, I don't think the bride is showing yet, do you? She looks marvelous, even in her condition"... and things like that. Some of the other stories from that night escape me, but the point is, I'm a HOOT when I'm taken to a fancy schmancy affair where I don't know anyone. Like at my step father's 65th birthday party when I snuck wine coolers, then told his guests that I was his bastard child. A HOOT, I tell you. When attempting this stunt, it's best to walk away right after the whammie. It leaves the listener confused. Best not to stick around and answer questions.



Lies I've told my children

These are actual lies and not "Leslieisms". There's a big difference.

1. They were made from love. (or drunken make-up sex...whichever)
2. Black holes will appear on their tongues if they lie.
3. They can't drink beer because it's too spicy (I also tell them this with regard to anything that I don't want to share with them, oreos, etc..)
4. I'll come back upstairs in 5 minutes. Just close your eyes and wait for me.
5. Oops, did I accidentally skip a page?
6. That there's jewelry in my mother's box (uh, no, that'd be Grammy's ashes).
7. Skateboards aren't allowed until you're 10. It's the law.
8. If you don't eat healthy food, I'll have to call Dr. Macedo and he'll have to give you a vitamin shot.
9. Daddy and I went alllllll the way to Las Vegas, just to get you this pokemon card. Aren't we the bestest parents ever? Of course we didn't buy it at the gas station downtown, silly!
10. We're not fighting, we're just talking about a movie we saw last night (I use the movie line for any conversation my son overhears that he shouldn't overhear).

~TRULY yours,
Leslie