True Stories

The Chivas Regal Incident: One Christmas, when I was still in the young boy stages where you don't buy your parents gifts, but rather they buy them for you and you just signed the card; my Mom had given me a bottle of Chivas Regal to give to my father. It was his favorite. On Christmas morning he opened up his present with a big grin across his face and exclaimed "Thanks, Chivas!". I remember being upset because I thought that my Dad didn't even know my own name. The least he could do was thank me by my own name right? I quickly corrected him "Ugh, Dad, my name is Zooly Juice not Chivas!" The entire family laughed, they just loved that I had no idea what I was talking about, which only enraged me even further. Eventually they explained to me that the name of the gift I had given him was actually 'Chivas' and he was not in the wrong. It was a really sweet time for the empire.

The Leg Scratcher: One night at the dinner table, back when my family was all still living under the same roof, I can remember having a nice family dinner. I'm not sure if I had poison oak or poison ivy, but I am sure that my leg was so fucking itchy that I could barely stand it. I scratched and scratched away but the itch never left. I was completely oblivious to everyone else at the table because I was scratching so hard. My brother rudely interrupted me and chimed in "What the fuck are you doing?". I looked at him like it was none of his business and said "I'm scratching my leg, what's it to you?". Here's where the plot thickens, and this story takes a turn for the worst and immediately ranks as one of my finer moments in life, so much so that my family will still break out this gem of a story every now and again at even larger family functions. My brother, looking as puzzled as ever, looks at me and shockingly says "No man, you're scratching MY LEG!". Well I'll be damned, no wonder the itch wasn't going away. A star was born that day.

Everyone Needs a Hat: I know that people will on occasion sleep walk, its not something that happens regularly to me, in fact, I think it may have only happened once. I truly made it count. I have seen my brother on two separate occasions pull off some magical moves, and I can remember thinking what an idiot he was and that he must've been faking it...he wasn't. The first time it happened to him, I woke up in the middle of the night to scratching sounds, as soon as I exited my bedroom there was big brother, he looked like he was trying to climb the wall, extremely unsuccessfully, but it was great to see him try. The second time it happened to him, I was sleeping in my parents room, completely unsuspecting of the wild western film that was about to erupt. The door kicked open, in army-rolled my brother, guns blazing (with only his fingers as weapons of course), shooting the bedroom right the fuck up. It was pure genius but I was still proud that I was not sleepwalking. Not yet anyhow. A few months later I was soundly asleep in the basement and my parents must've had some guests over for supper, for my first foray into sleepwalking, I guess I decided that it was a good time to remove all of my clothes, and saunter up through the dinner party, and into the hallway closet. "What are you doing?" my Mother asked. "Just getting my hat" I said. Naked as a baby, up through the party into the closet, grabbed my hat, and proceeded back down to bed. In the morning she asked me if I had remembered any of the events, which of course I did not, but I could genuinely appreciate the impression that I had made on the guests. Go big or go home.

The 'Top Secret' Files: I can vaguely remember when I was just a young pup, probably between the ages of 5 and 10, and an unintentional cruel joke that my Father had played on me that wasn't really a joke at all, but it still hurt just the same. As a family we used to have movie nights on Friday. The family would get together and watch a good PG-13 film (of my parents choosing) as a means to spend some quality time together. Well one night I was excited to know what was the movie du jour, so I decided to ask my Father what was on the slate. "Dad, what movie are we going to watch tonight?". He replied quite genuinely "It's Top Secret". I was a bit flustered intitially by his response, because I really wanted to know what movie I was going to watch. So I asked again. "No seriously Dad, what movie is it?" and again "Top Secret son". Well after about the sixth time asking I was now in tears, crying angrily because my Father would not tell me what flick it was. I can remember being so fucking pissed off because he just wouldn't spill the beans. Until he finally decided to go into further detail for his loving child. "Zooly (with consoling hand on shoulder), the movie that we are going to watch tonight is actually called Top. Secret. It is a spoof comedy starring Val Kilmer and I'm sure you will like it". It turns out the movie was actually called Top Secret, and I did like it, and I would highly recommend it to anyone.

How to Impress a Girl: I was at my high school sweethearts house, probably skipping school, and we were in the woods smoking cigarettes so as to not get caught by her parents or anyone else. I was trying to 'play it cool' and I remember throwing my butt on the ground, a few minutes passed, and she asked me if everything was alright. "Fine" I said as she looked on puzzled. No sooner did I realize that the discarded cigarette butt had caught my pant leg on fire. I withered around in pain as we desperately tried to put the fire out. She succeeded, but I was unfortunately left with little to no leg hair, and a very embarrassing memory. We broke up shortly thereafter.

The Taxi Driver Ruined My Pants: I've been to Paris twice in my life, the first time I went, I bought an expensive pair of Giorgio Armani pants. I wasn't really familiar with designer brands or anything like that, but all I know is that I loved these epants more than any single item of clothing I had ever owned before them. I got some really good mileage out of these pants, and they last for a few strong years at least. Then came Canada Day. My friends and I had taken a taxi in order to get to the bus terminal, when the taxi stopped, I got out and stood right next to the car, my other friend exited, which only left one more buddy to get out of the vehicle. It was at this point that the cabbie started to pull away in error, he drove directly over my foot, which immediately caused me to pull away, thus tearing the entire crotch out of my favorite pants. It kind of bothered me that I had to spend all of our great nation's holiday with no crotch in my pants, but it really got to me that these pants could not possibly be sewn together again. They would never get back to their former glory. I have hated that cab driver ever since.