While lying, and talking about lying, is great fun for me, it's come to my attention that some people (namely, some family members) are a little disturbed by the whole thing. So, please allow me to clarify a few points:
I do not consider myself a liar, per se. To me, a liar is someone who lies in order to misrepresent themselves, or inflict harm unto someone else. I would never, ever do either of those things. Maybe an appropriate disclaimer would be: No strangers were harmed in the making of this blog.
If I had to estimate it, I'd say 99% of my tales stem from boredom, and a desire to spice up someone else's day. Above all else, I'm a storyteller, and in the back of my mind, I truly believe that telling a crazy story to someone can brighten their day. It's up to them whether or not to believe me, and either way, they have something to go home and tell their kids about.
If someone wants to worry about my mental state, worry about the other one percent of my lies. Those are the lies that I tell for no reason, that fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. Check out my Reba McEntire story for an example of that. Those are told without an agenda; they don't help me in any way, nor do they hurt anyone else. They just.. happen.
None of my lies are malicious. I cannot stress this enough.
And underneath any stories I tell, I'm still me. I've never, ever, ever tried to be someone I'm not, except for a week sophomore year when I spoke in a British accent. No matter where I am, or what story I'm telling, I'm still Ashlea Chase, from a goat farm in east Tennessee/ southwest Virginia. I love ponies, dogs and Canadians, and hate people who drive Hummers.
I also hate liars.
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