Fine, you bloggers think you’re soooo damn smart. Well I’m going to show you who’s boss now. Below are two stories and you must figure out which one is false and which one is true as shit. I don’t like the fact my last story was so obvious as some of you stated. My fragile ego took a hit (not that kind) and thinks retribution must happen. Brace yourselves bloggers and get reading. There might be a handmade prize for correct answers. Let the extrapolation begin!
(spoiler alert: answer revealed in footnote at bottom of this post)
Story #1: Once upon a time I was a bit more naïve and scrawny than I am today, but that’s not really important here. I was a
very moderately talented actor during my short theatrical run. By short theatrical run I mean two plays, one in grade school and one in middle school. I played Mercutio in Romeo & Juliet and some lame robot in the middle school play.
Before all my college buddies shared an apartment with me, they lived in the campus dorms. I’d wander across the street and visit when I should’ve been studying. We’d hang out in their rooms and do stupid things (prank calls, tip over three wheeled golf carts, blow-up dolls in elevators, etc.) to get attention and avoid anything ressembling research.
One brisk night a few cute girls were walking by the dorm and my friends decided to serenade them. I looked around and wondered to myself why I wasn’t singing. Then it dawned on me how scared I am to sing and how painfully shy I am around the female species. Instead of singing, I thought I would yell something titillating out the open window.
"Your moves… they are so sensual"
During the same year, I got a job at a bakery in a trendy mall. Early one morning a woman delivered a handwritten note, stating she wanted to go out with me. She smiled and quickly walked away. I couldn’t stop thinking about this cute girl all day long. When I got home I bravely called the number on the piece of paper, damn that final digit was hard to push. When the female voice answered, she claimed to not know me. I asked "you’re Christina right?" She verified her identity, but denied ever meeting me. I called her digits a few more times over the next couple weeks without success. In 2006, 14 years later, I learned this was an elaborate hoax created by my buddies. The girl who gave me her number was some random woman they met that day in the mall. My buddies handwrote the note and begged her to deliver it. The phone number was a legit number using our university phone directory. Gullible Egan was born!
On the same day I got the note, I complimented a customer… or so I thought. I told her the dress she was wearing was pretty and how it reminded me of wallpaper in my mom’s bedroom. See, I was so naïve.
Story #2: My mom always told me you get what you pay for. Think about all the things in life you pay for, haircuts, food, cars, coffee, exotic vacations, a reacharound, your space on the net, etc., and what you get in return. Perhaps the things we don’t pay for are even better since no dollar value is associated.
My first official job was at a local Baskin Robbins sweet shop. I got this job when I was sixteen and it made me feel like the wealthiest person on earth. The first 16 years of my life I had to beg, borrow, and steal to get money. I only took money from one brother, but that’s a story for another day. Getting a paycheck for scooping ice cream and mopping floors was a tasty job. I rode my brother’s junky white ten speed to each shift.
Overwhelmed, yet delighted by my paycheck, I opened a bank account. I faithfully deposited my paycheck every couple weeks and slowly watched my balance grow. Now, what the hell does a high school kid buy with his money?
I decided to purchase my first computer, a used Mac Classic for $500 from a friend. Within a year I was downloading stuff illegally using a 300 baud modem and corresponding with people around the globe in the primitive days of the internet. Once you go Mac, you can never go back! I got what I paid for alright, a lifelong addiction to all things Mac.
UPDATE: Story #2 is the fake, but only slightly. I’m embarrassed to admit Story #1 is completely true. Story #2 isn’t true since my first computer wasn’t a Mac, it was a Commodore 64 purchased for $300 from a buddy on my swim team. I didn’t really rush off to open up a bank account either. I’m fairly certain I didn’t just steal money from one brother, several were unlucky. Finally, nobody should ever pay for a reacharound. Those should be free as a part of doing business. Now, I must go see my daughter and stop the fabrications. I do realize Story #2 isn’t true fiction since I only changed a few minor details of a true story. Normal blogging will resume very soon.