My "Last" Christmas Prank

My friend just posted something that started "A few days late but..."  so I jumped in with about eight pregnancy jokes, then her mom messaged me.  Granted, her mom was pretty upset.

But, it reminded me of a story from when I was in my sophomore year of college at AACC that I wanna tell everyone, any maybe give them some ideas, or maybe it just makes me a super terrible person.  You decide.

I was dating a girl who had shattered my world about a year before but being a dumb, younger person.  I'm easily friend zoned, I'm gonna write about that one soon.

So back to the point,  Christmas time came around and I was just joking around with a few friends of mine when I said "Wouldn't it be hilarious if I got (To protect her identity lets call her "Dexy's Midnight Runner") her some baby clothes and baby supplies and put them under her familys' Christmas tree?"

We all laughed, we all thought it would be epic, a prank to be talked about for the ages.  So I went to Target.  And bought some baby clothes, a binkie thing, and almost one of those pumps for breast milk, but those were expensive, but looking at them made me laugh.

I checked out, told the cashier a bit about my prank and he laughed a bit and made a joke along the lines of "Cheaper that child support man.  That stuffs a bitch." and I went home, one hundred percent confident in my prank that had been approved by a few of my friends and a random cashier.  What more did I need?

I wrapped the presents in my traditional Legal Pad wrapping paper (Which is really just sheets off a legal pad taped hastily around a box.) and got ready to take them over to Dexy's Midnight Runner's house.  I went over to pick her up for dinner and as she as upstairs getting ready, I ran out, grabbed the gifts and put them under the tree and we left for dinner.

Three days went by and it was finally Christmas morning, which means I was probably awake at four in the morning chomping at the bit to see what was under my families Christmas tree.  Around ten thirty, I got a text message from Dexy's Midnight Runner's brother, let's call him Pete, cuz that's his name, saying "Holy shit.  Did you send these?" with a picture of baby clothes attached.

At first I laughed, a lot.  I forwarded the text and picture to all who knew about the prank, except the cashier, and it got rave reviews.  From my friends.

Around eleven, I was headed to my Grandmommy's for the big family bash, and my phone went off.  I looked down and saw a text from Dexy that read, well, it was a lot of words people don't like me using on this blog.  Safe to say she wasn't happy with it.  Cuz her parents grilled her for about twenty minutes, which may have (Which means it did happen) ended in a pregnancy test.  " Classic joke." 


When the various friends texted me back later, they all wanted to know what happened and how it went down.  Once I told them, they all basically said something along the lines of "Yeah, it never really sounded like the best idea."  I just kept asking "Why didn't you stop me?"  And they all said "It was hilarious, mostly cuz we wouldn't suffer from what would happen after."


So long story short, don't buy a girl your dating baby stuff.  It will bite you right in the ass.

Summertime and The Livins Easy

So about two weeks ago I went to a wine (vomit) festival in a little old place I call "Three Hours From Home", Virginia with a friend and his co-workers. It was called Valley Fest, and they had a lot of wine, beer, and some awesome bar-b-que but I noticed something far more important there that I should have wrote about two weeks ago.

Girls. More specifically, girls in sundresses.

That's right, my Official Sign of Summer's Start. Screw Memorial Day, when pools open, the first day out of school, or any of that other crap. For me, summer starts with the first girl I see in a sundress. And flip-flops. And avaitors. And who has blonde hair, a Southern accent, brown eyes, stands about 5'5", and that has a rich father who will see me as the son he could never have and shower me with love and upon meeting me (A) writes me into his will, (B) allows me to marry his daughter, and (C) let's me choose which of the fine automobiles I would like to drive from his stable of fine automobiles.

This woman has been elusive to say the least and I hope every girl I've dated that wants me back (Haha, none of them want me back.) will read this and get on the ball.

I feel those jokes could have offended some people. Oh well, like Mike Birbiglia once said, "Some people laughed, some people didn't, so I was one for one."

Now, back on topic (for a brief time until I go off on another random tangent). Summer is finally here. I spent all of Memorial Day hanging out with my boys Dave, Josh, and James (aka "Cheeks") in "America's Largest Whites Only Country Club" also known as Anne Arundel County.

We had a "blasty-blast bitch tits Ninja!" to put it as Dave would. He doesn't really talk like that, but he does talk in catch phrases and those are some of them so I guess that counts. By the way, the random tangent counter for this post in up to #2. Lifetime counter for this blog is probably in the low seventies, it's like this blog is just my brain on the internet; random crap until I find a point and try like hell to stick with it. That was #3.

So yeah, summer is finally here. Time for shorts, flip flops, tank tops, bathing suits, sunglasses, convertibles, and, ya know, stuff.

It's a time to hit the beach with your friends and family. Which is awesome. Get that beach house, hotel room on the boardwalk, or tent on the beach. Whatever it is. Buy some sunscreen, a kite, ice, soda, water, towels, beach ball, beach umbrella, and a cooler. And beer. A ton of beer. Like, cases upon cases of Natty Boh (Gotta represent that Mura-land {Maryland}) and get blitzed and jump into something or drop the Atomic Elbow on a pool float.

It's a beautiful thing to be on the beach. My family rents a big ole house in the Outer Banks and just parties it up for a week. There's beer, card games, a pool table, movies, a poker table, a fooseball table, and most importantly, two hot tubs and a pool. And most years, there's a pretty banging fireworks show that the family puts on (Carroll's tend to be pyromaniacs) and we usually get a god bonfire going down there on the beach and spend a few hours sitting around it talking and drinking and just having a blast.

What else comes with summer? I guess going to the pool? I haven't had a pool membership since Glenn Dale Country Club closed down like, fifteen years ago but I'll always remember four things about that place. One, the water fountain tasted like copper. Two, the floor of the bathroom felt really weird on bare feet. Three, that one life guard was wayyy hot, even when I was six, I think she's the reason I have a thing for pierced belly buttons. Weird. Four, Coach PeeWee tried to teach me how to dive, still working on it Coach!

I like going to baseball games too in the summer. My friends and I went to a Baysox game well before "Summer Dress Day 2011" but I went to one after that so I'll write on it anyways. Baseball games are great whether you like baseball or not. It's you, your friends, beers, hot dogs, nice weather, and occasionally fireworks.

The first one we just kinda heckled, well, not just kinda. We heckled the crap out of the Richmond Flying Squirrels. We laughed, talked, ate, drank, and been merry (that's terrible english). And we took a ton of pictures, one of which is sitting next to me on my desk, and that picture will travel with me for years to come. I love this picture, it's got a lot of my favorite, most beloved people in it and soon I'll get one with all of those damn people in it. "That's Mahoney!"

That's really all I have for right now. It felt kinda random, but whatever. I'm confident and I liked it so it ain't nothing but a thang chicken wang (Proper people would say "Nothing but a thing, chicken wing" but I roll fresh outta "A Livable Community" aka "Gawjus" Prince George's so I say it different. Tangent #4.)

I've really slacked hard on updating this stuff, I'm gonna fix that. I need more ideas though, please please please if there's a story, opinion, or something you want to read about or that you want to write about, let me know.

Untitled Pt. One

Okay, so this post is gonna be a bit lengthy and maybe off my regualr path but what's the point if I don't do that every once in a while? The following paragraphs are the set up to the post and also just some fun memories, not all of the names are accurate but if it's you, you'll know. Enjoy it.

It's 1995 or 1996 at Ascension Catholic Church's Kindergarten class, the one right next to the freaking graveyard. Creepy shit. I was there with my friends Joe, Joel, and Brian at the ripe old ages of five and six so firetrucks, playing war, and taking a hulu hoop and running around with it like it was your ship playing "spaceships". Those were the most important things to us at that time. Now, the girls in the class used to run around and try and kiss the dudes and when you're that little, you don't know that (A) girls are awesome and (B) that "Michelle" will turn into one hot piece of woman that will be talked about with your friends to this day like legend. I'll probably tell my kids about how stunningly hot "Michelle" is and they'll be all like "We know Dad, we read it on your super popular blog that made you super famous and got us all this awesome stuff from all the money you made with the radio shows, albums, televsion series, movie deal, and speaking tours. We're gonna go play with our yachts and gold plated monkeys. You're the best Dad, we love you." (Dramatization. I don't have an ego, that's super humble).

But you're in kindergarten, you still brought in show and tell and shot hoops on a Fisher Price basketball hoop that comes up to your hip today. You didn't like girls, they were just in your way on the way to your cubby to get your Color-By-Numbers and bucket of eighty year old crappy crayons (we only had black and white left) each morning.

{I really hope these two paragraphs mesh together, these things usually do but I have no real faith in my writing ability}

Now fast forward (like on a VCR, look it up if you don't know what a VCR is). It's October 2002 in Bowie, Maryland and around that time is the first school dance for the 6th & 7th graders. It was supposed to be at night, but after the tragedy that was the DC Sniper (the Benjamin Tasker shooting was maybe a half mile from our school) so the start time was moved up to right after lunch cuz as we all know, snipers don't snipe after school gets out. So we're all having a good time, dancing and eating and talking to each other in the Hall and then it happened....the "DJ" played a slow song.

What do we do? We had never danced with a girl, I mean sure Mrs Farnia probably hung her CootieZapper4000 (Patent Pending) above the doors as promised but what if there was a more dominant, maliscous, blood thirsty, version of cooties? We didn't know, we couldn't read science journals, tune into CNN, or assume a clean bill of health. For the time being, the safest move was to just steer clear, I'd try again next time. Or maybe not, we were talking Cooties after all, I was young, had my greatest years ahead of me, I didn't wanna die never having tied a tie.

So most of us sixth graders wandered off to the bathroom, to get a pretzel, or just too chairs and watch those brave seventh graders dancing with a few of our classmates with them. Scanning the room on my way back from the bathroom, I saw my best friend Andrew dancing with a, wait for it, girl. My heart stopped, I might have dropped my (generic brand) soda, I dunno. This was my best friend risking two things, cooties and feelings. I started thinking of a uluogy for him right there on the spot.

I walked over to my friends Mike and Ryan and we watched, like lions waiting to eat a gazelle (wow, that's a bad reference but I've got lions in my head for some really weird reason so eat it). The song ended and Andrew walked back over to us. I swear to God he had chest hair and a Rollie Fingers moustache (Google him) when he got close enough. Mike asked him what it was like dancing with a girl and thi smy not be the exact reply but it went something like "I feel like I just put a warm, fuzzy sweater on my insides" and from that moment, cooties died. I loved warm fuzzy sweaters, who the hell wouldn't? And to wear one on my insides? Sign me up man, I'll go take the CootieZapper4000 off the wall and then go into storage and destory last years model, then go to the manufacturer and burn the place to the ground. I wanted Cooties, cuz who doesn't love a warm, fuzzy sweater?

So since 2002 I've been hooked (on women...and meth), and that story is a good lead in to what this post is gonna be about. I also just love that story, I have alotta stories about my friends and I'd love to tell them and have them tell them to you. We're a different group but I don't want it any other way cuz if it was anyother way, I'd have no idea what a "de-gloved hand" is (don't Google it, it's really gross. Also, don't make my mistake and Google de-gloved [insert different body parts] just cuz your friend says "What about de-gloved....". It's bad, so bad.

So let's close the nostalgia book for now and get to the old meat and potatoes of this post. I want a girlfriend. Now, being single is okay to me, it's fun to be able to go out and not worry wether or not my "lady friend" is having a good time or if my friends hate her. But the single game gets kinda thin when you get into the mid-twenties and even for me today at twenty-one. One of my friends is already married, two are engaged, and a few have been in relationships for years. I still like hanging out with them and I like the significant others they bring with them, but it gets to a point where playing the third wheel is just sad.

In some cases the scariest part about relationships is the affect it has on those around you. When you get that serious girlfriend/boyfriend, your friends kinda fall to the wayside. Instead of playing dodgeball at the "Y", you're apple picking with her or holding her purse at the mall. Your friends get fed up with you and eventually there's an ultimatum handed out and you have a choice - her or your Bros. I've always chose my friends cuz they were there first and if one Crazy shakes loose of the tree again and tells me to decide, she's gone, cuz I love dodgeball.

Also, Sunday is the Holy Day and no, not for Church, but for other two things. Thing number one is sleeping in before I go to Hyattsville and goof off with my family all day. Thing number two (the more important thing) is the twenty-two weeks that the most powerful sports machine in the history of the world, say it with me, The National Football League, is dominationg television and radio. It's the music that starts every broadcast, the NFL shield, my constantly re-newed hate for Troy Aikman, the many teams and players I love to hate, the fight for the playoffs, and that gift from Heaven known as the "deep bomb". but this is gonna go way off subject with the football so I'll kill it here - moral of the story is don't mess with my Sundays.

So why do I want a girlfriend? Cuz I like playing the "boyfriend" role, doin stuff like opening doors, pulling out chairs, all that stuff. It's fun and it's nice to do nice things for people (shocker) and it's even nicer when that person is a attractive girl who likes you. It's just that feeling of being needed for something, even if it's simple. It's like when the guy kills the spider in the movies, it's a simple ass thing to do but it makes you look like a hero (for the record, I'm scared of spiders so I'll look really girly trying to kill one but he will be dead). I'm just flat out a better version of me in a relatioship. I watch what I say and do, I take better care of myself, work out more, and eat less. I guess its beacuse I need to live up to some expectations I have in my head of what type of guy I should be, the type of guy she deserves so I demand self-perfection which is good (I guess).

So I have more to say on this stuff but I don't really know how to word it right now seeing how I'm not having the best day. I sat here for forty minutes staring at the screen before deciding to cave on the rest of this post and there will probably be a follow up to it at some point. I also tried to wait till I was done to title this post, but I'm not really sure what to title it as so it will be "Untitled Pt. I". Eff it. I'm done.

Happy March

So here we are, March 1st and post number two. I'll let you know ahead of time this is gonna be a post spanning alotta different subjects (Maybe four, dunno, don't wanna read the draft I wrote, it's all the way over...wait, it's right in front of me. Screw it.) and some just straight up random crap and jokes. I thought of a joke last night when I was looking through a book I have and I'm not gonna lie, I cracked up, it's random crap and a joke! It's "I have three coffee table books, so you could say I have alot to bring to the table." Get it? Classic. It's random, extremely corny, and maybe slightly charming (Ladies? Charming? No, okay. You're probably a bitch anyways).

Alright, quick disclamier this first one is a sports post. If you don't like sports, I'm looking at you Dave, there's only two things I have to say to you (A) die and (B) skip down a few paragraphs and you'll be out of the woods.





So the Redskins announced on Monday that they were parting ties with Bro Sweets aka Dollamite Jenkins aka Sherrif Gonna Getcha aka Southeast Jerome aka Clinton Portis, who is owed eight million dollars next season (if there is a season). Alotta people didn't like Portis for the off-field antics or the "diva" attitude but you gotta look at the mans start in Denver and move to DC.



CP came into the league as a cut and burst back, he has a home run hitter, we got him and his first run in burgandy and gold was a sixty three yard touchdown for god's sake. Then Joe Gibbs comes back (if I had the energy right now, I'd re-write a post slamming the Redskins but that would interfere with my goal to own/coach/manage the team) and decides Clinton is a Brandon Jacobs-esque running back that can lower the shoulder and crash through the o-line dragging bodies. He's not, but all the credit in the world goes to him for not crying about having to play that way, all he wanted was the rock and when he was at his best, the Redskins made the playoffs. When he got hurt the team was garbage, the broken hand, concussion, and torn groin all took two things off the field: the teams best rusher and by far the teams best pass blocker. The District of Columbia will miss #26.

Ok, sports are over, you kids can come back inside now, but take off your shoes, I don't want you trackin mud through my man cave.

Like I said at the top of the post, it's March. Finally March. Month number three of the tweleve, the month on the calander that has Mardi Gras, St. Particks Day, Labor Day in Western Australia, and the first day of spring. I guess what I'm really talking about here is spring. Flowers blooming, leaves coming back to the trees, rabbits crapping on your lawn, and your neighbor peddling his old useless crap from his garage.

Spring also brings the start of what I call "Water Season", I'm sure other people call it that too but I wanna take credit cuz I'm vain(I have a Google Alert set up for "SamWow"). Water season is great, sailboats, motor boats, canoes, kayaks, fishing boats, jet skis, and water skis. It's epic and I love taking part whenever I can. I went sailing once and didn't really do anything except remove some velcro straps and sit next the girl who was then my best friend cuz her boyfriend refused to sit with her (awkward). But I took alot of pictures and had a blast learning about sailing, it's in my families blood(maybe I made that up) and it's always had an appeal to me and I just love it, this is really random now that I kinda read back through it but oh well, my blog, my rules. And if you didn't like this paragraph and you're a guy, read the next paragraph, girls can steer clear, I don't really care.

More importantly, spring brings one of the most lovely times of year, warm weather. We know what that means. Girls all over will be showing skin and thank god right? It's the best time to drive/walk down the route one corridor through College Park cuz it's out in full force. It's girls from all over ages eighteen to twenty two walking around in flipflops(one word or two?), sun dresses, shorts, tank tops, halter tops, and naked(that last one is a lie, this isn't Salisbury). There was that one day last month in where it was about seventy degrees in Maryland and bam, it was like Spring was in full swing man, nothing but really, really, really pale winter skin but it was a teaser, a reminder of things to come like that postcard the dentist sends you every six months with some stupid kitten on it that says "Hey, we're still here, make sure you see us soon ok?".

My next post is gonna be about throwing rocks, and maybe my future wife.