Tuesday, April 10, 2007

The Beer Store, It's Where the Beers Are

In Ontario, Canada, the beer store used to be called, "The Brewers Retail". They had a really ugly orange and white sign too. But nobody had any trouble figuring out where to buy beer. Nobody cared what the beer store looked like either, only that it was open and had beer. And nobody ever said "I'm going to The Brewers Retail", they said, "I'm going to the beer store."

Finally the brewers of Ontario got wise. They renamed all stores "The Beer Store" and changed the sign so it looks like (surprise!) a glass of beer. Now the four guys who were confused by the whole "Brewers Retail" thing or thrown off by the unattractive sign no longer had to shamefully give their buddies money and ask them to buy beer for them, because they couldn't find the beer store.

Of course, there was this one guy in Guelph who didn't get it, so the brewers of Ontario came up with an idiot-proof solution. They launched a multi-million dollar television and radio campaign telling everyone they had changed the name and the campaign used this catchy, stupidity-proof slogan...

"The Beer Store. It's Where the Beers Are."

Thank you for that brewers of Ontario, I was confused, but now I thirst no more.

So I went to "The Beer Store" recently and I had a meeting right afterwards so I happened to be dressed in a nice dark suit. Blue tie on blue shirt, polished black Rockports, hair nice and neat. I was as dapper as I could get without resorting to Photoshop. The beer store was very busy, I waited in line for quite a while, surrounded by lots of guys also buying beer, but none were as well dressed as me. I stood there, confident, happy and ready to buy beer.

I got to the hot girl working the cash and noticed she was doing everything possible to not look directly at me. I asked for my beer, she typed it in and took my debit card, we did the transaction and the beer came out on the little conveyor belt. She never looked at me the whole time. I wondered if maybe I had something on my clothes so I briefly looked down.

And saw my underwear.

My fly was not merely open, it was all the way down as far as it can go, which on suit pants is pretty damn low. To make matters worse, both sides of my fly were spread apart like curtains, as a far as they could go. My grey Fruit of the Looms were exposed in all their package-enveloping glory. I can't believe I never felt a draft. You could have driven a milk truck through my pants they were open so wide.

I said nothing, I simply reached down and did myself up as though I had intended my pants to be open and now I wanted them closed.

Of course, I'm not the winner of the inadvertently exposing myself in public award in our family. That dubious honour goes to none other than dear old dad.

I was laying in bed early in the morning, not ready to get up, when I heard something bang on my window. I was pretty dopey so it took me a minute to get up, open the blinds, look out the window and see that there was nothing there. I was about to go back to bed when the doorbell rang very briefly. I took a minute to put on some pants and a shirt and I opened the side door and no one was there. So I went to the front door. As I'm standing on the front porch looking right at the doorbell button, the doorbell rings again, but very briefly. So I close and lock the front door, go back to the side door and look out. Nothing. I close and lock the side door and decide to go back to bed.

As walk in my room I hear a bang on my window. Now I'm getting worried. I look out, no one's there. I wait. The doorbell rings. I go back to the side door and open it. No one's there. I stand there for a minute, just waiting, trying to catch whoever is doing this when the fence gate suddenly swings back to reveal my very angry father, dressed only in a tee-shirt and underwear, trying to hide himself behind the fence and whisper-screaming about "I've been stuck out here for twenty minutes banging on your window and ringing the bell and hiding behind the fence and the door locked behind me and..."

Seems he let Frodo out without his chain on, so Frodo decided to explore the forbidden neighbor's grass. Dad stepped out to shout at Frodo, who, realizing he was about to be shouted at, darted back into the house to hide. Of course the door closed behind him locking my dad outside. In his underwear.

Now I know who I got my flashing skills from.
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