If you don’t know who he is, he was one of the stars of the hit 90’s sitcom Friends.

Don’t be impressed by that. There were too many “stars” to count on that stupid show. Even a monkey was a star on that show. A monkey. Not Curious George. Not the Ikea Monkey. Just a regular, annoying monkey, so Matthew’s “star status” is really no big deal at all.

Just like in high school.

Matthew may have had famous parents and a cheap California tan, but I was the real star at Lisgar Collegiate Institute in Ottawa. Not only was I president of the UFO club, but I was also a great athlete, and I used to crush Perry mercilessly at tennis.

All.

Day.

Long.

It used to infuriate him! He would throw his expensive tennis racquets all over the place, complain that I was “foot faulting” or not wearing proper whites. Bullshit stuff like that. Anyway, the bottom line is that I destroyed him and made the tennis team while he did not. This final humiliation seemed to break Matthew, and after that he was my subordinate, little yes-man.

Matthew has been pretty unemployable since Friends, and thirsty for a little bit of publicity, he recently went on Jimmy Kimmel and announced that he and another kid, “Chris Murray,” once beat up Canadian Prime Minister and sex symbol Justin Trudeau back in school.

http://www.womansday.co.nz/celebrity/matthew-perry-admits-he-once-beat-up-justin-trudeau-7383

This is not true.

As Matthew still respects and fears me, he wouldn’t dare use my real name in public, but I was the “Chris Murray” mentioned.

To make a long story short, I was giving a presentation– in the hopes of recruiting future members to my high school UFO club–to Justin’s fifth grade class. After my talk I opened the floor up for questions:

Justin: Je ne peux m’empêcher de remarquer que les filles semblent être sous-représentées dans le club UFO. Pourriez-vous nous expliquer pourquoi?

Me: What?

Justin: Oh, I see you don’t speak French. What a shame. What I was asking was why aren’t there any girls in the UFO club. Are they not allowed?

Me: Girls??

Justin: Yes, girls. They comprise over half the population. ( Class, including teacher, roar with laughter)

Me: No girl has ever tried to join the UFO club. Would any want to?? Do you think you could get us one!?

Justin: That’s not my job. Your job is to create a safe and inclusive environment so they’ll want to join. Girls, would you like to join this creepy, unilingual, UFO club for boys, or would you rather form your own right here?! ( Class, including teacher, roar with approval)

Some other things happened, but in short, I delegated Matthew to beat up Justin after school, however Matthew failed, as I should have known he would fail, and I had to step in to do the job properly. At this time in my life I got nose bleeds very easily, and my bleed had nothing to do with Justin, who mistakenly thought the fight was over and was walking away like a coward. I tackled him and was just about to apply the finishing gotchy when some little girl kicked me in the back of the neck.

I had to wear a brace for six weeks after that.

And sadly, Matthew and I then drifted apart and the UFO Club just sort of faded away.

In all, I spent nearly a month in hospital, and a very long winter just became very much longer and stranger. I was on a staggering array of medications, drugs that served to lend an already dislocating and vulnerable experience a trippy, unreal quality, more dreamscape than actuality. To compound matters, I spent about half my time on the rehab wing of a Francophone hospital where all of the other patients were about 30 years older than I was. Separated from language and the tribal, cultural connections of people in your age group, I drifted about in a hazy, timeless limbo.

At any rate, I returned home to Toronto on April 5^th, and on Sunday Rachelle, my sister and I drove down Queen Street to Trinity Bellwoods Park, and as we were passing familiar landmarks, it felt like a million years since I had last been in Toronto. It wasn’t that things looked different, but rather distant, remote as if seen through a smudged lens, and the feeling extended to my own life, too. I felt like a lived in a different country, even from myself, and the best I could do was quietly watch those in the midst of their lives.

The park was full of hopeful people, all there to soak in the first hints of spring. However, the park was barren, an ugly, pre-spring absence of colour, and everybody was colder and less comfortable than they thought they’d be, but they were there all the same, and so was I, all of us waiting for the light to fill us once again, and that, that was the important thing.

This is a very small sample of some of the written complaints the principal has received from concerned parents:

“ When we picked Williamsburg up after school today he told us that he saw that dairy was available in the cafeteria. Is this true? Dairy? In 2013??”

“Our son Balzac was told he was “missing out” and that it was his “loss” by another classmate when he told her that he was on a gluten-free diet and couldn’t have any of the Oreo cookies she offered him. This sort of verbal abuse is unacceptable and it’s our hope that you severely discipline this girl so that this doesn’t become an ongoing problem. Additionally, another pupil scrawled “ballsack” on his binder. Balzac is a very sensitive, artistic and gifted boy, and to have uncertainty, even insecurity creep into his spirit would be nothing short of criminal. ”

“Sand was thrown at Plath during lunch hour, some of which got in her hair. To say the least, it was a VERY bad way to start the school year. We will be home schooling Plath until this matter is resolved and we are assured that nothing of this nature will ever happen again.”

“While performing a puppet show about Medecins Sans Frontieres for his grade three class, Luther was heckled by one student who was unable to follow the simple narrative of his “piece de theatre.” (Surely most children know of this NGO and have some French, no??? Is our education system that bad?!)This disruptive student (behavioural problems caused by poor diet?)kept yelling out, “Medecins Sans Fartieres,” and all the other children laughed, which caused Luther severe trauma. I had to give him half an Ativan when he got home. It is an atrocity when a child is not allowed to flourish and is bullied into subordination. Please consider advancing Luther to grade four, five or six so that he is able to interact with students who might share a similar artistic and intellectual capacity.”

“ While playing dodge ball at recess, our boy Colbert was hit twice, once in the head. Clearly, he was targeted. This is unacceptable. We ask that you look into this immediately and discipline the children involved. They are Droogs.”