Tall Tale:
noun
An entertaining and often oral account of a real or fictitious occurrence: anecdote, fable, story, tale. Informal yarn. See words.
An untrue declaration: canard, cock-and-bull story, falsehood, falsity, fib, fiction, inveracity, lie2, misrepresentation, misstatement, prevarication, story, tale, untruth. Informal fish story. Slang whopper. See true/false.
An entertaining and often oral account of a real or fictitious occurrence: anecdote, fable, story, tale. Informal yarn. See words.
An untrue declaration: canard, cock-and-bull story, falsehood, falsity, fib, fiction, inveracity, lie2, misrepresentation, misstatement, prevarication, story, tale, untruth. Informal fish story. Slang whopper. See true/false.
I have two roommates, one is named Mark and one is named Corey. Mark is 30 and Corey is 24. Corey is working at ski school just during the season before returning to Yellowstone to be a park ranger. Mark is working as a liftee for the season and then after that he is working at a liquor store. I like one of my roommates, can you guess which?
I do not like Mark. He is 6'8", about 160 pounds and is addicted to Cocaine. I know he is addicted to cocaine because this is a small town, word travels fast. It certainly doesn't hurt my case when he comes home in the middle of the night on a work night and starts slamming things around as if he is the only person who lives in the house. He once tore down an entire wall covered in wrapping paper (unrelated X-Mas décor) because he could not score one evening. Score as in purchasing drugs, he has yet to score with a lady. This man is just a complete and aimless sap. He has such a violent temperament that it is impossible to engage him in meaningful conversations, so I don't. I limit myself to one or two words responses such as: Yea? No way. Really? That's cool. Good work. Sure. I find I can get through almost anything he asks me with these responses.
I wish it were something surface level that really got to me about this guy. I try and look past the fact that he eats with his mouth wide open, smacking his lips and exclaiming mmmm, oh man that's good. He does this repeatedly, but it's a fucking hungry man dinner! It's not good, it's killing you! When he cooks its worse. I do not know how he has food to eat when he cooks because it is all over the kitchen. Sauce is spilled across the stove, pots with grease up and over the side sit on top. Spoons that he uses to stir he sits directly on the countertop. It's filthy and disgusting. He adds at least a stick of butter to most everything he makes and drinks about 2.5 glasses of whole milk with every meal. It is safe to say his diet repulses me. In the morning he always makes bacon, leaves the pot and heads out to work. His arteries will get the better of him, fairly soon too. When I told my step dad about this fellow he looked at me and said, "well when have you ever seen an old, tall guy?" Good point.
Whenever he sees a hot girl, whether in real life or TV (the more common scenario) he takes off his glasses and says he is clearing a spot for her. That, or he just says, "she can sit on my face". Ewww. Who talks like that at 30? I didn't talk like that when the only thing I ever thought about was sex, about 10 years ago in middle school. He is also a pathological liar. I wonder if he knows I know how full of shit he is. My other roommate, Corey, and I constantly laugh when he is done telling a story. We call them Tall Tales.
It's just him at the core, not the constant stupid shit that I put up with, that pisses me off about him. He claims to like the Packers but he knows nothing about them. The only name he knows is Brett Farve. I loathe fair weather fans, they disrespect the sports they claim to love. He'll go as far as to make bets for the Packers, and, does not have the money for simply because he is from Wisconsin. That's all well and good when you make more than 9 bucks an hour, but when you lose and don't pay? Get real. It wasn't even me he bet against, but he welched all the same. I just know he would have wanted to collect immediately had he won. He probably was just looking for another 8Ball because he blows through his so damn fast. You can always tell the nights that he is all coked out because he sleeps in the living room in a reclining leather chair that says "Miller Racing" and snores inconceivably loud. Still in his clothes, maybe a shoe is off, then gets mad when I inevitably wake him on my way out. I just remind him that he has a bedroom and leave.
The upside to the living situation is that I am almost free of him. We live in the employee housing provided by the resort. In order to live there you have to be employed by the resort. He is seasonal and I am full time. He makes claims that he is transferring to a summer job, but I have it on good authority that all of his co-workers hate him for the same reasons I do. The odds of him getting another job are low. So low that hopefully he will be forced out of my life rather than me bludgeoning him with his own stupid, extra long, skis.
I do not like Mark. He is 6'8", about 160 pounds and is addicted to Cocaine. I know he is addicted to cocaine because this is a small town, word travels fast. It certainly doesn't hurt my case when he comes home in the middle of the night on a work night and starts slamming things around as if he is the only person who lives in the house. He once tore down an entire wall covered in wrapping paper (unrelated X-Mas décor) because he could not score one evening. Score as in purchasing drugs, he has yet to score with a lady. This man is just a complete and aimless sap. He has such a violent temperament that it is impossible to engage him in meaningful conversations, so I don't. I limit myself to one or two words responses such as: Yea? No way. Really? That's cool. Good work. Sure. I find I can get through almost anything he asks me with these responses.
I wish it were something surface level that really got to me about this guy. I try and look past the fact that he eats with his mouth wide open, smacking his lips and exclaiming mmmm, oh man that's good. He does this repeatedly, but it's a fucking hungry man dinner! It's not good, it's killing you! When he cooks its worse. I do not know how he has food to eat when he cooks because it is all over the kitchen. Sauce is spilled across the stove, pots with grease up and over the side sit on top. Spoons that he uses to stir he sits directly on the countertop. It's filthy and disgusting. He adds at least a stick of butter to most everything he makes and drinks about 2.5 glasses of whole milk with every meal. It is safe to say his diet repulses me. In the morning he always makes bacon, leaves the pot and heads out to work. His arteries will get the better of him, fairly soon too. When I told my step dad about this fellow he looked at me and said, "well when have you ever seen an old, tall guy?" Good point.
Whenever he sees a hot girl, whether in real life or TV (the more common scenario) he takes off his glasses and says he is clearing a spot for her. That, or he just says, "she can sit on my face". Ewww. Who talks like that at 30? I didn't talk like that when the only thing I ever thought about was sex, about 10 years ago in middle school. He is also a pathological liar. I wonder if he knows I know how full of shit he is. My other roommate, Corey, and I constantly laugh when he is done telling a story. We call them Tall Tales.
It's just him at the core, not the constant stupid shit that I put up with, that pisses me off about him. He claims to like the Packers but he knows nothing about them. The only name he knows is Brett Farve. I loathe fair weather fans, they disrespect the sports they claim to love. He'll go as far as to make bets for the Packers, and, does not have the money for simply because he is from Wisconsin. That's all well and good when you make more than 9 bucks an hour, but when you lose and don't pay? Get real. It wasn't even me he bet against, but he welched all the same. I just know he would have wanted to collect immediately had he won. He probably was just looking for another 8Ball because he blows through his so damn fast. You can always tell the nights that he is all coked out because he sleeps in the living room in a reclining leather chair that says "Miller Racing" and snores inconceivably loud. Still in his clothes, maybe a shoe is off, then gets mad when I inevitably wake him on my way out. I just remind him that he has a bedroom and leave.
The upside to the living situation is that I am almost free of him. We live in the employee housing provided by the resort. In order to live there you have to be employed by the resort. He is seasonal and I am full time. He makes claims that he is transferring to a summer job, but I have it on good authority that all of his co-workers hate him for the same reasons I do. The odds of him getting another job are low. So low that hopefully he will be forced out of my life rather than me bludgeoning him with his own stupid, extra long, skis.
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