About this Monkey Tale
Picture it. March 2011. The Piazza in Northern Liberties.
After a big night out, my boyfriend and I went to a bar for brunch. Let’s call the bar T.Y.P.
I had a few mimosas, things were going great. I soon realized I was what I call “drunk over”. That’s when you start drinking before you’ve recovered from last night and you gotten a little tipsy on top of a hangover.
I spied a special on the brunch menu. It was called “Monkey Julius”. Intrigued, I ordered it. I do love a mimosa cocktail.
A monkey Julius consisted of cheap bubbly, a tiny splash of oj, and the rest: Golden Monkey.
I had one. Things were great.
I had two. Things were better.
I had three. New friends! Yay!
I had four. I was sailing.
I had five...
The next thing I know, I was telling this story to friends a year later, not realizing what happened next would become a legend and I’d have a nickname.
I’d sworn my boyfriend to secrecy about what happened that afternoon. Secrecy lasted a year.
A year later, after a few beers at the lake, I gave up the rest of the story.
After I told the story “Whitetail” was born.
Back to the original story:
I’m not sure how I survived the ride home after all those Monkeys. I put my head in my lap as my boyfriend got us Wawa. Later, he told me it looked like my red messy bun hair looked like a Pomeranian on my lap.
We got home, I stumbled around. I was carried up the stairs. I wound up naked. I had to go to the bathroom. I headed to the basement bathroom. I’m not sure why. There was a bathroom right next to us.
On the way to the basement bathroom, naked, I dropped something. Yes, I pooped on the floor. MORTIFYING. I was running to the bathroom and a little came out. One small bit that would become legend.
Fast forward to when I told the tale to my friends. “Wait. So you pooped as you ran through the basement? LIKE A WHITETAIL DEER?!?”
I said countless times “it was just a little! It just FELL OUT as I went to the bathroom!”
And “It JUST FELL OUT” has been said to me so many times since then.
After this, all my friends posted pictures on my Facebook of Whitetail deer on my birthday.
My mom sent me a post. “Hey, deer, what’s going on?”
I’m still called Whitetail. Moral of the story - RESPECT THE MONKEY. But drink it- it's delicious.