The one where oldbitey feels especially fauxnee.

Behold! The humble recliner.
The Lay-Z-boy. The Barcalounger. Climb aboard, kick back and relax.


The trouble is, it’s not at all as relaxing as it looks. It squeaks and farts when you sit in it. You stick to it when it’s hot and that because its not real leather.
In fact, what you see is not a real recliner at all. It’s a knockoff.
It’s a designer fake with a couple of degrees.
It’s me.
I’m having a day of self doubt, a day where I wonder, "What the hell was I thinking when clearly I don’t know how to think?!" I’m admitting this here and now. I have no idea what I’m doing. Stage 2 Proposal? Nope, it can’t be done.

[Insert maniacal laughter here.]

Phony. Faux. Ersatz.
Think of me as Pleather.
I AM Naugahyde.

No. Make that Genuine Imitation Naugahyde.

Gee, isn’t that a great title for a book.
No you can’t steal it for your title, because its something I’m writing when I’m not being a REAL BFF, and that’s BIG Fat FAKER, not Best Friend Forever.