I'd rather be burlesquing.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

The other day, my pal Rena discovered the perfect definition for me - or rather - for what I do.

1. Inference or judgment based on inconclusive or incomplete evidence; guesswork.
2. A statement, opinion, or conclusion based on guesswork: The commentators made various conjectures about the outcome of the next election.

You see, I have this nagging habit of skimming things. Only reading (or vaguely over-hearing) the bits that I find interesting, and then sewing them back together however I see fit.

In my world, Mary Shelly was one of the victims of Jack the Ripper. Cucumber peels are poisonous. The London Bridge fell because they had built too many houses on it.

Personally, I think my version of the world is more interesting.

My dear, sweet, friends have come to accept this as a part of me, and tolerate it. They may question everything I say now, but they still sit and listen intently as I tell grand stories of deceit and debauchery, tying together the main headlines from the Evening Standard, the Weekly World News and the Guardian into one neat bundle.

However, despite their patience, sometimes I require an interpreter.

Enter Jason. He has developed the nack for retelling

Just imagine my surprise when Jason exclaimed in shock this morning that one of the victims of the recent plane crash was found buried alive in a sand trap.

I paused for a moment, and informed him proudly that he had just conjectured.


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