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Entries in pranks (2)


Evolution of a Peaceful Poop

Oh how I used to love the man-throne. I loved the comfort of slamming my pants down to the ground, situating my overly white-ass on the porcelain and just knowing for the next 10 minutes (give or take an hour) I was gonna be free of any/all responsibilities, chores, conversations…you name it.

When I was a teenager I was a huge fanatic of dipping (yeah, the sexy tobacco habit where you tuck some Copenhagen awesomeness in your lower lip) and of Mario on Game Boy. I’d sit in the bathroom for close to an hour, dipping and playing Mario.

Oh…I definitely didn’t have to poop…I was just camped out avoiding reality and enjoying every damn minute.

Then came college where the toilet was the only place you had enough time to knock out a solo masturbatory quickie. You sure as hell couldn’t do it with the roommate in the room. Showers were a free-for-all for pranks. If you made it through an entire shower without getting cold water dumped on you, attacked by garbage, or your hot water being cut off…well you were the man. Obviously the showers were no place to try and “take care of business.”

So the shitter became the go-to place to knock one out.

Then you get married…and there’s the first few awkward times where you know you’re about to peel some paint off the walls with colon fumes, but you just can’t do it while the new lady-friend was in the house.

The wifey never had that problem. I remember one of the first nights we first lived together I was walking towards the bathroom to pee and there she was, door open, perched on her throne, reading a magazine, relaxed as hell, and all “I’ll be done in a few more minutes. Can you wait?” like it was nothing. A part of me died that day.

Then we had kids. And I swore, I’d never share a bathroom with my kids. And for a while I didn’t have to…till we moved to the urban life that is Chi-Town. Three bedroom house, one bathroom…and that one bathroom has no lock on the door.

It’s inevitable—whenever I need to do my business, a small, embedded microchip goes off in the kids’ brains and bladders and says “hey little bastards listen…I know you’re all watching SpongeBob and having a good time and stuff, but your dad’s on the shitter. We’re moving into Code Brown mode now kids…get up, go pound that bathroom door like you mean it and make your old man cry!”

I’ll stand at the top of the stairs, “anyone need to use the bathroom.”

“Nope – I’m good dad,” the boy will scream.

“Nnnnooooo!!!,” the daughter will echo.

Two minutes later…at least one of them is doing the “pee pee dance” outside the bathroom door explaining how they’re about to pee themselves and everything within a 10 foot radius.

By the time I’m able to enjoy the solitude of the porcelain gods again I’m pretty damn confident it still won’t be on my own. It’ll be my wife having to lift me, place me on the toilet, then stand their disgustedly tapping her foot and asking “are you done yet?”

And I’ll do my doody duty and remember back to when I was a young buck and hearing her mutter the words “are you done yet?” was for an entirely different reason.


Glitter Bitches! 

I’m a huge fan of being on the pranker side of a good prank. Although, when you choose that route in life, you so very often become the prankee, which requires humility, humor, grace, and the rare ability to not get such an itchy trigger finger. Qualities I’m so very far from mastering.

The other day, the wifey stopped off at a grocery store to look for a type of tea that might help curb her appetite.

So she buys “Dieter’s Green Herbal Tea,” a Triple Leaf Tear-brand product. She goes to work, heats up some water, drops the tea-bag in, lets it sit all day, and slowly sips her delicious, thinning, super tea. Later that day, she (how do I put this delicately?) throws-up out her ass for hours and can’t figure out why.

After recalling her day and doing a little detective Google research, she found out this type of tea is a super ninja natural laxative stuff. And the longer you leave the tea-bag in the water, the harsher it is on your system.

All I could think was: Holy shit this is the greatest freakin’ prank tea in the entire world!

And as I drifted off to sleep that night, I couldn’t help but reminisce about other wonderful and memorable pranks I’ve pulled off or experienced…

Glitter Bitches!

Before our children were born one of my wife’s college roommates came up for a visit. So naturally we threw a party. Tons of people were hanging in the backyard, good music, great beers and wine, tons of laughing… I’m sitting on a lawn chair, half-shnockered when the wifey’s lovely and talented roommate calmly walks by me, stop, turns, and shoots both her hands towards me like a crazed spiritual healer and yells “Glitter Bitches!”

Within a matter of 1.3 seconds, I was covered from head to toe with glitter. To this day, I still find a random flake of glitter in my clothes.

You have a message!

During my first job I was a writer for a weekly newspaper. Small staff, no budget, two phone lines, no answering machine, and the editor’s mother was our receptionist. After returning from an interview, there would undoubtedly be a stack of pink phone message thingy’s that have who called, why, when, and return number on them.

Occasionally, I’d leave one on my editor’s desk with an important person’s name and reason they called. Then the beauty of the prank comes in. I’d put 1-800-, and then make up a three letter word, followed by a four letter word that was sexual—HOTT-SEX, BIG-TITS, GAY-LOVE—find the corresponding numbers for those letters and wha-la! So his message would be like, “Mayor XYZ called with some interesting information, call him back at 1-800-244-8487.” (Go ahead, call the number!)

I Love You, Come Meet Me

By far the most vicious prank I pulled was while I was in college. The interweb machine thingy was still somewhat new to college campuses and chat rooms were all the rage in the late 90s. I found a buddy of mine’s chat room “handle,” and decided to mess with him by creating a female name and going after him for some hardcore loving. The boy immediately got hooked to this mistress of sexiness I created. The entire dorm hallway knew about it and would pack my room for days as I’d chat with the boy for hours at a time. Finally, a sense of remorse came over me and I decided to end it by asking if he wanted to meet me in person. When he said “yes,” I said, “then come on down to room G18 in your dorm and I’ll be waiting.”

Sadly, the boy knew he’d been had, walked downstairs to our hallway, and took the hard pill to swallow of 30+ guys howling and laughing at him. A month later, I got another guy with the same prank. Funny thing is, the guy I got, was in on the prank the first time I did it.

So many good stories and pranks could be told, but I’ll save those for another post, or to share with the boy before he goes off to college. They make life memorable. Besides, everyone should be able to at least tell one story in their lives that involves the phrase, “glitter bitches!”