Suspiciously Rich Liars

So back in my Seattle days, there was this guy I’ll call Ernie. Ernie was a douchebag–but not in a malicious way, in a he-tries-too-hard kinda way. He was always hanging out with this pale, meek chick who was frequently (and inexplicably) barefoot, thus exposing her rodent-like feet, so thin as to be translucent, an effect enhanced by the visible blue veins which pulsed upon their surface and combined with her white, mealy flesh to create the most unflattering shade of gray.

Anyway, this guy of hers, Ernie, was the type who always pretended like he knew you better than he did, like he was closer to you than he was, most often, I suspected, so as to make others believe that you did, indeed, like him, thus taking them a step closer to liking him as well. Being liked was important to Ernie, because he was a car salesman of the most garden of varieties, such that a handshake was little more than a gateway drug to asking if you, by chance, were in the market for a new vehicle, seeing as how he had a bead on any number of such. All makes and sizes, too boot.

Fast forward a couple of years, and this guy had gone from innocuously annoying to suspiciously rich. He and his by-then wife would roll around town in their 7-series BMWs, her albino pancake of a foot hanging out the passenger-side window as they twisted along the windy road that led to their 6,000 square foot house that overlooked Lake Washington. Such “success,” you might assume, would make Ernie less of a glad-handing, name-dropping, ass sucker. After all, he was clearly an alpha dog, so no need for the shameless self promotion, right?

Wrong.

His new-found status didn’t change the fact that, at least within my group of friends, he was a bottom feeder. Only now, the bottom feeder had a sweet crib, so he parlayed that good fortune into regal gatherings at his homestead where he could be equal parts host and HMIC (head motherfucker in charge). And during one such gathering, he felt it necessary to tell someone he’d purchased his residence with cash.

My thoughts? I could give a shit about your finances, Richie Rich, but I am thirsty, so why don’t you shut the fuck up and fetch me a beer. But apparently not everyone was thirsty. Some were suspicious of such a boast, like the woman who did some digging the following Monday to learn that Ernie was not only a douchebag, he was a liar, too. His house had a note on it.

Which should come as no surprise. Ernie’s certainly not the first person who confuses his self worth with net worth.

 

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About John Cave Osborne

John Cave Osborne went from carefree bachelor to father of four in just 13 months thanks to marrying a single mom then quickly conceiving triplets. John and his wife, Caroline, recently welcomed their fifth child into the world, a little boy they named Grand Finale Osborne. He'd tell you more about it, but he's on the phone right now scheduling his vasectomy. You can keep up with John on Facebook, Twitter and YouTube as well as on his personal blog which he calls (get this) John Cave Osborne.

Comments

  1. Kate says:

    If he was that bad, and I believe that he was, why were you going to his parties?

  2. John Cave Osborne says:

    i was young, Kate. filled with hope. hope that one day, Ernie would quit trying so hard. that party was the proverbial straw, however…

    in a related thought, these days my jaded ass wouldn’t come near a party thrown by such a host.

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  3. Deebi27 says:

    I LOVE YOUR CHECK ON REALITY and saying exactly what’s on your mind!!! Go go girl! It’s probably why I love this blog!!!! Thank you! I am off to read more…have a glorious day darling!

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  4. Gina says:

    I remember you don’t like feet so I can understand your being disgusted by hers. There’s a whole slew of people still around, at least where I live, that continue to confuse the two worths. Now that disgusts me!

    • John Cave Osborne says:

      that, my friend, is universal and disgusts me far more than feet ever could. thanks for the comment. (and i did kinda go off on her feet, didn’t i?)

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  5. YouSaidWhat? says:

    Interesting post JCO…just last night I met one of my adult niece’s paramours for the first time. Apparently he had been a semi pro athlete a number of years ago and at that time had tons of money….I was incredibly impressed when he shared with me (why???) that he had spent $20 K on “24′s” for a car he no longer drives. Um, if you want to impress an adult, please tell me you spent the 20K on your three children, not on your “24′s”. I sort of liked that guy until I heard this story. Now I just sort of want to vomit on him.

  6. Kristin says:

    Did you twitch violently just typing, “rodent-like feet”? I laughed to myself at that one. And I love the new (at least new to me) acronym…HMIC. I’ll be stealing that, and using it!

    • John Cave Osborne says:

      ah, Kristin, the friend i’ve never met. HMIC is an outstanding acronym that i suggest you use three times before the end of the day, lest you somehow forget it. b/c you can’t afford to do that. as bright and clever as you are, you really need that one in your repertoire. (um, is that how you spell repertoire?)

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      • Kristin says:

        Didn’t see your response until today, but will endeavor to use it three times today…I should have checked before this morning’s faculty meeting. Would have been fun to think about (in)appropriate times to use it in there.

        You nailed it on repertoire! No red ink from me.

  7. Dara Squires says:

    You really have a thing about feet don’t you?
    I’ll try to remember to wear socks if I ever meet you. But it not I’m sure you could write a fascinating piece on my dweezil toe.

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    • John Cave Osborne says:

      (1) yes. i do. except mine. their perfect. and my wife’s. b/c she’s my wife and my love. and, too, b/c she’s got some seriously beautiful feet. my kids do, too. yet i digress.

      (2) should you not be wearing socks, fear not, for i always carry an extra pair. okay, that’s total bullshit. i don’t. but still. i should, maybe.

      (3) i’m sure your feet are lovely, as you certainly seem to be…

      (4) i’m off to google dweezil toe and will be upset if i vomit b/c i just ate this delicious salad.

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      • Dara Squires says:

        (1) So your foot thing isn’t totally weird. I have an ear thing. It’s all good.
        (2) I never wear socks. Sometimes I wear shoes, though. Oh yeah, I wear socks when I’m skiing. Let’s go skiing together.
        (3) Blush
        (4) You’ll probably just find a bunch of pictures of Frank Zappa and his son, Dweezil. It’s a curled up stub of a pinky toe. Also, my second toe is longer than my big toe, which is apparently either a sign of genius or of being a murderous psychopath.

        Meanwhile, Ernie was a douche and I’m glad you don’t hang with him anymore. Do you wonder where he is now? Sitting fat and bald with a combover in come trailer talking about his glory days? Or sleazing his way through life just fine?

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        • John Cave Osborne says:

          (4) roger that. dweezil zappa it was. and my second toe is larger, also. and here i thought it meant that i had a big schwantz.

          yeah, ernie’s one of those unhappy people who laugh super loud late, late at night. i’m sure, on paper, he’s just fine, but one day, we’ll all get that missing puzzle piece and be like “a ha. totally makes sense now.” not sure what that piece will reveal, but as of now, we simply aren’t working w/ the full picture.

          one funny thing about life, though, is that we usually get just that. a full picture, that is.

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  8. defendUSA says:

    HMIC….nice!! I could use that at least twelve times in a day during tax busy season…mwhaha…The HMIC at my work screws the help…he’s also married to her! And I mean that in fun…what a great acronym!

  9. I’ve been checking out most of your stories so i can claim excellent stuff. Let me definitely bookmark your blog.

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