Wasabi

So my last name is not really Wasabi, everyone back home just calls me that. The story behind it goes a little something like this:

My best friend in the entire world, through think and thin, and in good and bad health, is Misti Lace. Misti and I played soccer together and eventually started hanging out, after which, we instantly became best friends. When I moved out of home after finishing year 12, I moved in with Misti at "The House" in Sandy Bay, Hobart. "The House" was already crowded; Misti had moved down from Burnie with her little sister, Maddy, and their mum, Betty, when Maddy was accepted into the Tasmanian Institute of Sport for soccer. Lottie Wallace also lived there; she is a year older than Maddy and had also been accepted into the Institute. Her family couldn't relocate to Hobart so Betty, being the saint she is, said Lottie could board with her.

As you can imagine, it was a little chaotic and we were packed like sardines...imagine five ladies trying to share one bathroom in the morning. Amazingly, we survived.
Living with Misti was great and it really just felt like I was living with my twin sister. It wasn't long before Maddy and Lottie started feeling like family too, and I will probably treat them as my little sisters for the rest of my life.

Izzy Wasabi

At this point, Misti and I were both over 18, while Maddy and Lottie weren't, so us BFFs used to party and go out a fair bit. 'Hit the town', 'tear up the clubs'...call it what you will, we did it. One night we were out at SoHo when Misti ran into a couple of guys she played rugby with, so we sat down for a chat and a drink. As the night went on one of the guys was becoming noticeably drunk so his mate decides it's time to go. Drunk Boy has forgotten my name and is partially deaf due to the loud music and the fact that he is drunk, so after five failed attempts he concludes that my name is Izzy Wasabi. It has a nice ring to it so Misti and I just went along with it.

So Drunk Boy gets up to leave and thrusts his hand out to shake mine but forgets he has a full pint of beer in front of him still. It spills. All over me. Now, all my friends can testify to this, I can't stand beer. I don't like the smell or taste and now I'm covered in liquid that makes me gag. But I can't be mad because the situation is too funny. Drunk Boy is shocked and upset and is babbling, "Oh no! Oh dear, I'm so sorry...I'll buy you another one"
"It's OK...it was yours...beer makes me gag"
"I'm so sorry! Oh...oh dear...oh shit...oh...ok, we're leaving? Ok, bye Misti, bye Izzy...Wasabi, nice meeting you...sorry about the..."
"Yup."
And in a blink of the eye he was gone with the wind and I had a new name.
I also smelled like beer for the rest of the night.