Hi there. My name is Charles. You can call me Chaz, Chuck, Charlie, Chucky, Chuckles, Chaztastic, and the list goes on. I'm edging closer to 40, with a wife of 10 years. And a dog of 2 years, that we bought 3 weeks before a life-altering hurricane. That is another story for another time.
I'm the guy at a cookout or a friendly get together, who is asked to tell specific stories when the conversation starts to die down. And it's always in front of 3-20 people I only met a few hours before. A "Chaz...tell (Insert New Lifelong Friend's Name Here) about the time you..." kind of lead-in. And depending on the story that is tee'd up, about an hour is spent of me telling a ridiculously true story that could only happen to me.
As I've gotten old and wiser, the creation of these stories has been relegated to my youth. But the wild young man who sat in the back of a truck, in only his shorts and flip flops in the dead of Missouri winter, while a friend drove through a carwash, still comes out from time to time. I still have chronic bronchitis from that night.
I thought of typing these stories out as a bit of therapy for my mind. So bear with me. I may have some serious tales to tell, but I will try to keep them lighthearted as best I can. So, buckle up and thanks for reading.
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