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You know, I've got this friend who's a pathological liar. I mean, I don't know if you've ever had a friend like that, but it's like having a human version of Wikipedia, except none of it is true. It's more like Wikifibber. You can't trust a single word that comes out of their mouth. I asked him how his day was, and he's like, "Oh, you know, just climbed Mount Everest before breakfast." I'm like, "Dude, we live in Kansas. There's no Everest here, just a whole lot of flatness and wheat fields. Are you sure you didn't just conquer a sand dune in the backyard?"
And it's not just the grandiose lies; it's the little things too. Like, he'll say he had a sandwich for lunch, and I'm thinking, "Yeah, right. Probably had a five-course meal with the Queen of England." I mean, who lies about a sandwich? But that's the world I live in.
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I'm convinced there's an underground competition for pathological liars. They gather in some secret location, and the winner gets a trophy made entirely of Pinocchio noses. I mean, it's the only logical explanation for the lengths some people go to spin their tales. I imagine the events would be epic. "In the 100-meter dash, we have Steve. He claims he invented the Internet while riding a unicycle on the moon. Let's see if anyone can top that!" It's like the Olympics, but with way more creative storytelling and way less athletic prowess.
And you know there's a panel of judges sitting there, furrowing their brows, trying to decide who crafted the most outlandish narrative. "Well, Susan did say she discovered a lost city in her backyard, but John insists he's secretly Batman. Tough call, folks.
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I think there should be a support group for pathological liars called Pathological Liar Anonymous. They could meet and share their most ridiculous stories, and the first step is admitting you have a problem. But let's be real, they'd probably all lie about being there in the first place. Can you imagine the group therapy sessions? "Hi, I'm Dave, and I once convinced NASA to let me take a joyride on the International Space Station." And then someone else chimes in, "Well, I'm Linda, and last week, I convinced the entire city that I could speak fluent dolphin. Ee-ee-ee!"
I think it could be therapeutic for them, though. A safe space to let their imaginations run wild, as long as they agree not to believe each other's stories. It's like group therapy meets improv comedy, and honestly, it might just be the most entertaining support group ever.
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I tried dating someone who turned out to be a pathological liar. It's like being in a relationship with a mystery novel, but instead of solving crimes, you're trying to uncover the truth about whether they actually like pineapple on pizza or not. You ask them what they did over the weekend, and it's like they attended a Hollywood party with A-list celebrities. But then, you see their Instagram, and it's just them binge-watching Netflix in their pajamas. I'm thinking, "You call watching 'The Office' for the fifth time a star-studded event?"
It's a whole new level of relationship challenge. You become a detective, and your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to separate fact from fiction in the soap opera that is your love life.
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