So I was giving him directions to the new place. I mentioned that he’d see a sign,
REMINGTON:
Next Three Exits
“I’m the second exit.”
“Coming from the South or the North?”
“!…?”
This anecdote amused some co-workers, yesterday. I was describing a conversation with a certain silly friend who is keenly astute, but frequently oblivious to the painfully and mindlessly obvious. Other than the girl, the folks I was entertaining haven’t actually met this fellow, but his legend supersedes him, and we all had a hearty laugh at his expense.Or did we?
Truth is, the above conversation never took place. Well, at least if it did, it probably had nil comedic value.Probably went something more like:
“There are three exits off Rte. 29 to get into Remington. I’m the second exit.”
“Okay.”
“….”
But that isn’t funny and doesn’t entertain my co-workers, so it needed to be spiced up to a moderate coworker comedy level.
Truth of the matter is, I probably thought up the idea of someone questioning the ordering sequence of the second of three places not being dependent on direction of approach some years ago.
I know I certainly used the same joke when describing the three exits for Fredericksburg, or rather the greater metropolitan area of Carl D. Silver,Del Webb and Former Historic Significance.
So my little FOO PAW came out today on the way home from Chili’s – in discussion with the girl.
“You always lie about stuff like that – you’re the worst person in the game of ‘Telephone’ ever, because you just completely make shit up.”
I think my liberties with stories and factual accounts* actually end up providing significant value to my friends and co-workers.