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Today was a great day for spreading lies about myself. Not actual believable lies…but the sort of outrageous ones that I enjoy because they’re just blatantly untrue.

Me: Can you open the door for me in a minute? I have a box to bring in from the car and I won’t have enough hands.
Mom: Aren’t you going to put a coat on?
Me: No. Why?
Mom: It’s freezing out! At least put on your work shirt.
Me: Nope! *goes out to the car in an undershirt*
Mom: I’m getting cold just opening the door for you.
Me: I don’t feel the cold. You know that. Except when I’m trying to go to sleep or when dad doesn’t want us to touch the thermostat.

I could hear my mom’s eyes rolling at me… It was pretty loud. Like the giant stone rolling after Indiana Jones. She is not convinced by my lies. 😛

Mike: *hands me a post-it note with some info* Can you do an incident report about the guest’s lost necklace?
Me: But…I don’t know the guest’s name! How can I submit a report without–oh. Ohhhh. Nevermind.
Mike: Is the name right there?
Me: Yes. Good old Edith. *pause* In my defense though, I can barely read.
Mike: That’s useful. A grammar Nazi who can’t read.
Me: You can’t put me down! Because if I just believe in myself hard enough, I can persuade others to believe in me, too. Like about my never sleeping.
Mike: Because fascism never sleeps!
Me: Exactly. I persuaded Tyler and Paris that I almost never sleep, and that’s what matters–not that a thing is true or not, but that people believe you.
Mike: *places a hand over his heart* So if you just know, deep down, that you’re a Nazi…
Thabet: This sounds like in Peter Pan, when they’re trying to revive Tinker Bell.
Me: Yes, Thabet…if you clap loudly enough and just believe, you’ll revive all the Nazis…
Mike: *laughs*
Thabet: Oh, god. That’s terrifying.

Because every time I’m like, “excellent…nobody’s called me a Nazi in almost a week!”, we have a conversation like this. I’d almost make us a little sign where we count the days between incidents, but it would 100% be reset any time I work with those two.

*Jackie and I go into a theatre to usher, and I pick up the broom and porter I left in the front of the auditorium*
Jackie: What?! Where did you get that?
Me: What?
Jackie: The broom and porter. You didn’t have them in your hands when we walked in.
Me: Oh. This is where I was when you called me to box office. I left them in here because I figured I’d be right back.
Jackie: Ohhhh. *we work quietly for a minute* I was gonna say…out of all the managers and supervisors, if I suspected any of you of sorcery, it’d most likely be you.
Me: Why me?
Jackie: You know. Kind of because you’re the most mysterious. And kind of because you just conjured a broom and porter out of nothing.
Me: Oh. *pause* I did do that, didn’t I?

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