Telling it like it is

I'm the kind of guy who likes to tell it like it is. For example, when my friend Joe was about to quit his job and take a position with an employer who would have paid him less money for doing more work, I said " Joe, your wife is ugly." 

Obviously, Joe did not want to hear that his wife looked like a Pug at that time but someone had to tell him. Can you imagine if he switched jobs and found out from a stranger that his wife was a hideous monster? Thank God for me, I say. After all, he is my best friend and I couldn't just let him go on with his life oblivious to the fact that the woman he married should only be let out on Halloween night.

Sometimes I like to tell it like it is at the local mall too. "Hey you're fat," I'll say. "Do you really think a third hamburger will wash down all those Dunkin doughnuts? Keep this up and you're going to look like Joe's wife." But my grandmother can't hear me. I guess the fat has squished the passage in her ear drums now and prevents any sound from entering. It'll be a sad day when we have to bury her in a piano crate.

One place I will not tell it like it is is the therapist's office. That's when I like to lie and fabricate stories.  Like the time the doctor asked me if Joe knew I was sleeping with his facially-deformed wife. I told him that Joe was paying me $250 a month to keep his wife satisfied so he wouldn't have to go near her. And the stupid therapist believed it. Can you imagine?  $250! That's just crazy. He was only paying $100.