Based on a true story

One of my pet peeves is, “so, this is a true story,” it gives me the impression that all your other stories are sprinkled with falsehoods. It goes back to when I was hanging out with these sorority girls and before any comment they would say, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m so hungry.” You know what lie, say you’re famished, that you’ve been starving and traveling through a desert for weeks. It got me so irritated I started prefacing all my statements with, “I’m gonna lie; I’ve never been more turned on by someone’s personality.” So on that premise, none of this story is true.

I’m an alcoholic, and while most alcoholics can trace there disease over years and several tribulations mine goes back to one event; it was actually my first trip to a bar. My older cousin got me in, even though I was underage and told me to sit by the bar, they wouldn’t let me stand on it until much later, but eventually, I was charming when I was younger. She spent most of the night with her friends and I spent most of mine with the bartender. When the end of the night came she drunkenly stumbled out of the bar, but she forgot something. She didn’t forget her keys, not her credit card, she forgot her two year old cousin. It was then that I found out that to become an alcoholic you only require the two A’s Abandonment and Access, well either that or a two drink minimum.

I think most things are based on true stories but memory has a way of tweaking things. Some quotes: History is written by the victors and memory works the same way on an individual basis and Reality is an illusion, albeit a very persistent one