Time To Be Honest

A friend of mine from the real world (does anyone remember those? They are the friends we had before blogging that we can actually touch) was looking at my blog for the first time this past weekend and had a few questions after reading through many of my past posts.

While a lot of the questions centered around the question of why I haven’t been fired from my job yet because I seem to offer no real productivity at work, there was one question that really set me back on my heels. I mean the heels of my feet. I don’t wear heels. I just feel that needs to be stated. Although, I don’t want anyone thinking anything just because I feel that needs to be stated. Ok, let’s just drop this whole topic. What I was getting at was the fact that my friend called me out on something that I didn’t anticipate having to answer. This must be what it feels like when a politician has that skeleton (or high priced call girl) in his closet brought out for all the world to see.

At first I felt betrayed and then I realized that I was the one who was committed the real betrayal here. I value all of my blog friends and that is why I feel I need to be honest with all of you before I can sit down with a clean conscience, full of peace, to write another blog post. I am ashamed to admit that I DON’T REALLY LIKE CHEESE. I never have. (Ok, please hear me out and don’t leave yet, I beg you). In fact, I am lactose intolerant and really don’t enjoy any dairy product. So, before you read one more sentence, please allow me to offer my apologies to those of you that I have mislead for the last 550 or so posts.

Now, I’d like to explain my subterfuge (as a blogging friend would say). I made a reference to cheese once and it was so well received that I just had to keep referencing it. I guess it’s the same type of trick that NYPD Blue used in making everyone appear naked at some point on the show. Only my trick was contrived and was a lot easier to stomach than having to see Dennis Franz’ rear end. My supposed love of cheese connected me with so many of my fellow bloggers that I just found myself unable to break that bond. I got so caught up in my own lie and the benefits I gained from it that I could not stop.

Now I know how Barry Bonds feels, except for the fact that I never had a shot at the Hall of Fame, well the Baseball Hall of Fame. I think I've still got a shot at the Bocce Ball Hall of Fame. It's much swankier and a lot harder to get into. In fact, most people have never heard of it BECAUSE it's so swanky. I’ve tried to eat cheese, but when it melts it gets so greasy. There is a cheese processing plant where I live in Corona and I have to drive by it daily. Have you ever smelled the elephant or camel pens on a really hot, sunny and slightly humid day at the zoo? That’s what this cheese plant smells like. Really, who wants to eat a slice of cheddar with that scent still lingering (or should I say ‘limburgering’) in the air?

I guess I knew that I’d always have to face this day. I just hoped I could perpetuate my little ‘I love cheese’ gig a bit longer. So, my dear blogging friends, I am sorry. Please continue to visit my blog and allow me to visit yours. In a way, getting this off my chest has made me feel so much better, just like when they removed my chest tube after surgery. Who knows, maybe getting out from under this lie will make my writing better.

I feel so refreshed after sharing this with you that I think I will share something else I’ve been meaning to tell you all…









…APRIL FOOLS!!!!!!! Are you crazy, of course I love cheese. Heck, I’m eating string cheese while trying to type this. It actually made me physically pained to even have to write the words ‘I don’t like cheese.’ Can you imagine someone not liking cheese? Even worse, can you imagine liking cheese but not being medically able to eat it? Oh the humanity. Trust me my friends, everything I wrote above was a lie. Cheese is the lifeblood that makes me want to get out of bed in the morning. It’s my sustenance and my honey pot. OK, maybe throwing in the Winnie the Pooh analogy was a little much, but remember that my world is often seen through the eyes of two 5 year olds. So, thanks for letting me try to bastardize my love of cheese in order to make an April Fools joke. Although, I still don’t wanna see the butt of Dennis Franz’s gun, if ya know what I mean…