Tim and Victoria have a lot on their plate what with the moving to somewhere else and all.
I'm impatient though and want to get these items into The Sauce so I hired a ghost writer. His name is Will and he is actually being punished because he likes to send me all kinds of extra stuffs when he makes Sauce trades with me. I'll get hats and books and magazines and weird signs. Then, I have to deal with all that stuff.
So in any case, here's Will's story for Tim & Victoria:
I had this roommate once who was a liar. He was also Native American, but I don't think that had anything to do with his lying. He lied about any and everything. He dug holes of lies all around him until he was finally buried in those holes and couldn't get out. The only thing he could do was to sever ties with everyone he'd lied to and start over. I don't hold it against him. The lies were good-natured enough. They were almost always for what I thought were stupid reasons. Prideful reasons. Here are my top 10 in the format of Lie = Truth
1. "I'm taking some time off from school." = "I got kicked out of school because of crippling laziness and test anxiety"
2. "I have test anxiety." = "I have laziness"
3. "I have a job" = "I don't have a job"
4. "I paid for this with money from my job." = "I paid for this with the rent money."
5. "I'm going to school during the day while you're at work." = "I'm sitting around all day eating Cheetos."
6. "I paid that light bill." = "I used the light bill money for 5 consecutive fourth meals from Taco Bell"
7. "I have a party to go to." = "I'm a loser who's going to pretend to go to a party, but really go to KFC buffet."
8. "I just took a shower." = "I wet my hair in the sink and the shower is as dry as a bone."
9. "I've totally got a shot with that girl." = "That girl hates me because I'm drunk, fat, and not a marine."
10. "I'm fine to drive home." = "I'm so drunk I can't find the keyhole for the ignition."
He was a nice guy though. I was always struck by the strangeness of having, on the one hand, a lying untrustworthy roommate and also having a pretty good friendship with this liar. We all have problems I suppose. He had his fair share.
Once we took a vacation to the Cherokee Reservation in Western North Carolina. We stayed at a cheap hotel right next to the casino, drank too much beer, played cards, swam, then went gambling. Anthony, the roommate, was a Lumbee Indian. I'm not going to go into a great dissertation on that particular tribe, but they're "controversial". It took them a long time to be formally recognized as a tribe because they were a lot of different stories about their ancestry. Some think they come from the Croatan Indians (see Lost Colony of Roanoke) and others think they're Cherokee descendants that ended up on the southeastern part of the state. There's also a lot of talk about mixed breeding in that they may have been part Indian, but the rest of their ethnic makeup is in question. Basically they got a pretty raw deal and, according to my roommate (who was a liar we know) the Cherokee's had it easy and they didn't. Therefore, he kind of hated the Cherokee's.
So we went to their casino and he was treated like one of the tribe and everyone seemed to know him and love him and there was a kind of ethnic unity that us white people don't get to feel much and I've never felt really. It's that feeling of togetherness and family, tribe even. There's no white tribe. We're everywhere. I was just another white tourist, but he was greeted warmly and everyone at the casino talked to him like he was a brother.
It was nice for him and I felt like some of his ice cold feelings toward the Cherokee were warmed a little. Plus, we both lost big which made them very happy. It was interesting to see this kind of automatic family based on skin color and perceived heritage. To Anthony, they were night and day, polar opposites on the Native scale. To the Cherokees they were brothers, cut from the same cloth. Then there was me. 1/8th Cherokee with light brown hair and blue eyes. I may have been more Native American than Anthony (what with his "mixed heritage") but I was just another white man on the outside. It goes to show that identity seems to be more than skin color.
This other time I went to visit Anthony's home town and we wanted to go to a bar. Here's the conversation.
"We could go to this Indian bar, but you'll probably get stabbed."
"Why would I get stabbed?"
"Because you're the white man and those Indians get crazy when they drink. Go on the warpath."
"Oh. Well are there any other bars?"
"There's one in Dillon (SC), but I'd probably get shot."
"Because you're an Indian?"
"You got it. Now you're catching on."
"Let's just stay here and do a puzzle."