"When I was really little, someone yelled "ASSHOLE!" at my mother while driving. She tried to cover it up by claiming he'd yelled "asphalt." I made it most of the way through elementary school using "ASPHALT!" as an insult.
A little older, our local restaurant had several Pacman tables. Mom convinced me that quarters weren't necessary to play, and Pacman was just being stubborn when he didn't follow the joystick. Him obeying 1/3 of the time was good enough for me.
There was this one guy at the restaurant who I'd always catch watching me. When I asked mom about it she claimed he only spoke French, and that French people are angry and should be avoided.
These lies culminated one day at the restaurant. While I was grappling with Passive Aggressive Pacman, the mystery man sat down across from me. After a few minutes of watching he pops a quarter into my side of the machine. "My mom is such an asphalt," I muttered, finally realizing what a liar she was. This cracked the "French" guy up.
Years later I discovered that that man was my father, whom my mother had separated from shortly after I was born. Turns out he even lived in the same apartment building as us"
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