Roast of Pat Olson on the Occasion of His Birthday, 2013
Pat and I were school-bus pals when, in Rome, we went to the same school.
He was in 10th grade and I was in 9th, or something like that.
We sat together on the bus to school every morning and then home every afternoon.
The bus ride was lengthy and was an opportunity to concoct nefarious school-boy schemes, not that we would actually put any of them into action, as far as I can recall.
Indeed, I cannot remember why we were obsessed by the doings and persona of the assistant to the Principal, a Mr. McGee.
Come to think of it, the preoccupation was evidently mutual, for reasons that inexplicably escape me now.
He was a balding, obnoxious little man who liked to walk right up to within six inches of your face and then denounce your various transgressions, the precise nature of which I must confess have slipped my mind.
We called him McGeesGuy.
As he and we became increasingly known to each other, we enhanced his monicker to Griswold McGeesGuy, then Pat and I called each other Griswold McGeesGuy but that clearly needed abbreviation, so we came to address each other as... Grizzy.
Here's to you, Grizzy -- strangely, the exact nature of our criminal past eludes me, but with luck you may from now on steer clear of the Vice Principal's office!