Compulsive Liar? or The Most Interesting Person You’ve Ever Met?

Several months ago I took a wrong turn and ended up behind a local store, where I ran into two kids smoking the largest blunt I had ever seen (broad daylight, by the by).

“Sorry, wrong way!” I said.

“Right way if you want to smoke this with us..”, said kid.

As we smoked and talked, I learned he is the co-owner of the adjacent store. I was looking to quit my job at the time, so I gave him my information and told him to call me if he ever needed another employee.

Fast forward : last night.

I was offered the job, and met up with this same character to “talk business”.  My 6 male housemates gave me a hard time as we waited on our porch for him to pick me up. ::put put put::. Our brows furrowed in confusion and our jaws dropped.  Next thing I know I’m speeding down the narrow and dangerous mountain roads in a bright red 1930s no top no doors Pierce Arrow.  Look it up. Seriously.  I’ve talked to this kid maybe once before in my life, and here I am driving god knows where with god knows who. He pulls into a clearing, I struggle to hop out of this.. contraption, and we perch ourselves on a bench by the river, light up a bowl, and have one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever had.

They call him Mikey Snacks.  He’s funny, smart, good looking, and even speaks French. Not even out of college yet, aside from owning the store, he works as a promoter and assistant for a prominent commercial photographer, helps run a glass blowing company that makes the “tobacco pipes” they sell in the store, and he also completed culinary school at the age of 20 and moved on to be the sous-chef at not one, but several of the thriving restaurants in town.  He then proceeded to tell me many bewildering stories of his engagement to a model that had him living in San Diego for a short stint, as well as his current girlfriend, and the 4 bands he is apart of, including the different instruments he plays for each of them: guitar, percussion (not drums, percussion), violin, and harmonica.  Then, he noticed the field of wheat beyond the river, and explained step by step how to harvest it by hand.  I shit you not. Stoned, I could hardly keep up with the conversation.  It was one of those defining moments you realize you are devastatingly boring.  When it was my turn to talk about myself, I wanted to cry.  Usually, I shine in situations like this.  I am a natural charmer.

What was I supposed to say?  “Well, when I’m bored, I eat yo-crunch and watch the food network”?

As heartbreaking it was to dawn upon this depressing notion that I suck, he was extremely like-able and genuine, which, naturally, infuriated me.  The answer, then of course, is simple. I was, until this point, under the impression that working and going to school full time while maintaining an impressive social life was enough to show for myself.  But I was wrong. I must master all that is to be mastered.  If Mikey Snacks can accomplish, well, everything, then so can I.  On the other hand, there is the possibility that Mikey Snacks is full of shit because he is a) a compulsive liar or b) trying to get in my pants or c) both. This is far easier to accept and personally I like my comfy life without having to feel like a useless waste of flesh.  I simply do not have the time nor the connections to inherit a trust fund or whatever Snacks did to become so cool.  I must remind myself that skepticism is the way to approach people that make you question your worth.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I must find out where the nearest culinary school is and how to sign up.

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