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.

By the Light of the Moon, He's a Frenchman for the Night

That quote above is from a Jimmy Buffett song off the 1994 Fruitcakes album (Track title, "Frenchman for the Night", and yeah, I'm a huge Parrothead. Come at me.). It's also from the legendary night where I first met my friend Matt. Hopefully it's 100% accurate, but if it's not it's still damn close. I've told this story thousands of times and some things may have been embellished.

It was a weeknight, probably a Tuesday or so, that's when we used to go to Buffalo Wild Wings. I hopped in my 1997 Chevy Blazer, called Dave and was all like "Hey man, I'm on my way to the Condo." He probably said something like "Cool Ski-Doo Ninja." (Haha, what?) and I stomped the gas pedal through the floor. That Blazer used to roar, loud, every last ounce of that 4.3 Liter Vortec V6 rumbling, shaking, and roaring down 193 towards College Park as I watched the gas gauge steadily tick down. Way off topic.

So yeah, I get to the Condo, call Dave and he comes down to let me in. I'm pretty sure this was the point where he told me we had a special guest, Dave's friend from birth, Matt. It might not be, but meh. Either way, I was going to meet him that night.

So yeah, I get upstairs, meet Matt, sit around on the couches hanging out for a bit, then we roll off to Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner. Now, there's one part of all this I forgot. We were going to meet me and Dave's co-workers at dinner, Megan and Matt. Well, naming two Matts in the story will get confusing, so we'll call Matt II SpaceCadet (Thanks, E. She nicknamed him that because "His ears are so big you can see them from space."). Megan and SpaceCadet didn't have the best track record of showing up to places on time, but this night we actually did something about it.

Practical jokes are fun, elaboarte plans are even more fun, or at least they are to me, a twelve year old trapped in a twenty-one year olds body, So I get a text from Megan, and basically she says they're going to be running late. Real late. So Matt, Dave and I hatched a plan. Now neither Megan nor SpaceCadet had ever met Matt, and we decided as a threesome of immature goofy "young adults" decided to do like the French and "Gâchis avec leurs chefs parce qu'ils n'étaient pas très intelligents.", also known as "Mess with their heads cuz they ain't too smart."

And just like that, French foreign exchange student Herve Benoit was born. "By the light of the moon, he's a Frenchman for the night, by the light of the moon, it'll be alright"...

So yeah, the ground work was set. Did Matt know any French? Maybe a little, but we all knew Megan and SpaceCadet didn't, so we could throw a few random words in there and make everything Kosher. From there we ironed out details, Herve was from Nice, which is in South Eastern France. How did he know Dave? Well, Herve's mother and Dave's mother had been pen pals (I wanna say we decided they were college roommates for some reason?) and when the foreign exchange program opened up, Herve came to America to learn from a wise man named David.

And just like that, we waited for Matt and Megan to show up. I was worried about slipping up and laughing, but luckily we all held it together and sold it. As far as individual memories from what Matt did were air-masturbating and drawing a picture of him suffocating Dave with a pillow, a picture I'm proud to say that I still own. I dunno what else to really say about the dinner, other than the fact that Megan and SpaceCadet bought it hook, line, and sinker.

Are you wondering if there were any problems? Any slip ups? No. We came close, but Dave helped Matt count out "American dollars" from his wallet...even though his MARYLAND (Remember your Maryland license Matt? Love ya Chief haha,) drivers license was exposed the whole time. The best part of the night however may have been when we piled into Dave's car (Matt, Dave, and I) and had to keep our composure till Megan and SpaceCadet drove off. Then we all busted out laughing, like gut busting, ab crunching, knee slapping bellows of laughter. I'm pretty sure I cried.

So now fast forward a few months, or maybe weeks. I dunno, I wish I had written all this down when it happened because then I'd have it all fresh in my brain. Damnit. But anyways, so we all get together for Dave's birthday at Hard Times for what me and my current idol Matt had planned as the Herve/Megan & SpaceCadet reunion. We were excited, I had told Megan that Herve would be there and that he had "asked" about them, at which point Megan told me she had Googled (Is Google a proper noun? Does it need to be capitalized?) Nice and planned to visit Herve....

We. Had. Them. Fooled.

Then Dave leans across the table and tells them "Hey Megan and SpaceCadet, this is my friend Matt. He's not French, he's from SP, and went to school with SpaceCadet." or something to that effect and me and Matt were furious. We were ready to keep the charade going, and then it was over because we let someone else have control...

So in honor of Matt's birthday and the (Unoffical) Herve Benoit Anniversary, I present this story. 

Happy Birthday buddy, let's do fifty.

Friend's Who "Love" Me...Or Don't...

I know this my come as a whopping surprise to many of you, but I have friends. I know right? Crazy stuff right there. Well, maybe they're not friends, but they're people who tolerate me and invite me places so that counts right?

I'm just kidding, I have friends. Most of them from Anne Arundel County and I have absolutely no idea how that happened, but somehow it did and I still haven't been invited to their country clubs, private jets, or Gatsby-esqe parties. What the hell "friends"? What the hell.

But yeah, I like to write (hence this crappy blog) and on occasion I'll write my friends letters or emails just cuz I'm bored or I'll make them crappy collages of crayon-drawn pictures of us doing stuff. Really crappy looking. Terrible, the better gift would have been the empty frame.

All that self hatred aside, on occasion, my friends will write/email/make something for me in return. I'm gonna show one of my personal favorites from my best friend on the face of this Earth, Kelly. Enjoy it, God knows I do every time I read it.

By the way, she's a freak. That's why it's so weird. Just kidding.

---------------
Dear {Top Secret Nickname},
I just wanted to say thank you for a few things, so I thought I should express my gratitude by putting it down on paper so you can remember it forever .
First, I just want to thank you for being awesome.
A- almost as awesome as watching paint dry while sitting on a seat covered with shards of glass when it's raining outside, and then a monkey comes along and pokes you in the eye with a sharp stick. And then you fall on the shards of glass and have to get 165 stitches, and years later find out that you have lead poisoning from the pain n the wall. And that tick gave you lyme disease.
W- would you please shower every once in awhile? It's getting kinda gross.
E- exceptionally nonchalant about showering.
S- smelly, and not in a good way (probably has to do with all that not-showering).
O- offends 4 out of my 5 senses; just sometimes you smell so bad I can feel it.
M- mentally exhausting to be around (especially when you don't shower).
E- emotional like a tween who hasn't had a shower in a week.
Second, I'd like to thank you for being awesome:
A- awful, just awful.
W- way you make me want to vomit.
E- extremely large head.
S- softball player.
O- optical illusion, you are not.
M- my dreamboat, NOT!
E- exceptionally clean (seriously, who takes that many showers?).
Third, dayum son. Thank you for being so ridiculously good looking:
H- homey, you so fine.
A- all the ladies frock to your crock...pot that is. We hear you're a good cook.
S- snookums, can I get your number?
W- wow, check out them sweet cheeks.
A- are those real?
R- Ripped to the core.
T- twinkle toes, just like the twinkle in your eyes.
S- save some sugar for me.

And now for the last, but certainly not least, reason I want to thank you. Thanks for speaking without a lisp:
N- nothrils on your nothe (nostrils on your nose).
O- only Thamothy/ThamWow I know (Only Samothy/SamWow I know).
L- livths in a houth (lives in a house).
I- ith thooo thmart (is sooo smart).
T- things thongs (sings songs).
H- hath to wear glathes (has to wear glasses).
P- pethky prithoners with pethts prante on punpkinthhh.
Well, there you have it. Thanks again.

---------------

Well, that's what she wrote me. Sounds like a hater but that's the relationship we have, we just rag on each other all in good fun.

If you're wondering how this came about, I joked with her about writing me a letter about "How awesome I am, how awesome I am, and how good looking I am." and she added the stuff about the lisp.

April Fools.

Close you eyes and picture something for me. Well, keep your eyes open cuz I'm not there to read you this post. Unless you ask, then I'll probably come by and read it to you cuz then you'll give a glowing review about my blog to your friends and they'll start reading. Or if they can't read I'll come read it to them and start the cycle of me having to quit my job to read you all my blog posts.

Off topic like a MoFo, and now we're back.

You're down in Washington, DC seeing the Cherry Blossom Festival for the first time. You have your girlfriend, fiance, or wife with you (or maybe one of each with you, you sly dog). You walking hand in hand enjoying a spring day in the Nation's Capital, the Jefferson Memorial providing an amazing back drop when all the sudden you stop.

What do you see? A cop beatdown, College Park riot style? A kitten? Heaven? Girls in bikinis? Will Smith? All of those are wrong believe it or not. You see a young man, about twenty one years of age, down on one knee proposing to a young lady. If you're with your girlfriend, steer clear guys, next thing you know she's gonna want a ring. If you're with the fiance, she'll be all like "Aww." and she'll do that weird thing where they hug your arm instead of your body. If you're with your wife, you'll look back to a happier time when you didn't have all those damn kids (I know I do).

Now open your eyes again. Hi! It's me! I know I'm not what you wanna see when you come out of a dream/coma/trance/day dreaming session but here I am, sorry (really sorry). I have a story to tell, and as of right now I'm not sure if it will happen but by the end of the post we'll know seeing how I'm writing this a few days ahead of time. It may be pointless to tell you a story about what didn't happen but I like painting pictures with words. Now I'm done going off topic, I also want to apologive to Mrs. Gamble (my 7th grade english teacher) for my paragraphs not flowing cohesively.

That guy who was proposing, you know him. He's me (pause for dramatic effect). Minds. Blown.

Now ladies, ladies, please, I need you to keep your chin up. I'm off the market, it's just sad but true. My heart has been taken, my soul given up, my testicles removed, and my freedom crushed. But she's worth it. Now, I know what you're thinking. "Sam's getting married and we didn't know? What an asshole. We should have atleast met her once, we're his family/close friends." Ha, I lied to you. I'm not really getting married, what I tried to pull off at the Cherry Blossom Festival on Saturday April 2nd.

So I have a friend named Kelly (that seems like a really dumb lead runner for a paragraph, sounds dumber knowing this is longer than the sentence, man I suck). Kelly couldn't be around for my 21st birthday party but she told me to send some drunk texts and phone calls her way which I happily did. I don't think it took me more than ten seconds to decide what I was gonna do.

"Hey Kelly, will you marry me?" I sent as Wes nodded in approval, and from that emerged this crazy scheme which I'm writing about three weeks later.

So now fast forward. So it's eight in the morning or "Prank Day", the day I've been waiting for. There's just one problem, Kelly doesn't want to do it at all (now everyone quietly dislike Kelly. I'm just joking, don't dislike Kelly. She's awesome.) It's a tough thing to pull off and really sell it to the standards I wanted it to be at so I guess you could say we got cold feet over a fake wedding. Plus Kelly hates me. So yeah, even though the joke/prank didn't go through I still want to tell you guys how the joke would have gone down. There's two real reasons I want to, (A) I enjoyed thinking of the ideas and (B) it's only eight eleven in the morning and no one else will be awake for a few hours.

Okay, "Operation Fake Happy Ending" is what we will call scenario number one. It's simple, I get down on my knee, pop the question, and Kelly says "Yes!" and we'll stop it here for a second.

A friend of mine who I first told about the prank asked me "Well are you gonna kiss her?" (Kelly, I just heard you scream "Aww hell naw!" from here, and by the way, ouch.) So I don't know what we would have done but I don't think it really matters. I just wanted tourists to go home with a fun story and for people who didn't know it was a joke to wonder why there are pictures of me proposing to a random girl on Facebook.

So now onto scenario number two, "Operation Public Humiliation, Public Pity, Crippling Depression, Alcohol Abuse, Blinding Rage, Acceptance" It's a multiple step procedure that starts with all of "Operation Fake Happy Ending" up until the word "Yes."This time she says "No." Or "Hell no." Or laughs in my face. Or slaps me in my face. Or a awesome combination of all of them. "No! *Laughter* Hell no! *Slapping*" followed by a storm off.

Scenario two would have been the fun one (I got up to pee and forgot what I was going to put in here). There would be roughly a Tidal Basin full of people thinking a bunch of crazy things while they watched Kelly walk off and me sit on the ground and cry (I can get myself crying in about thirty seconds).

So yeah, the plan didn't happen. Oh well, I'm over it. It gives me a full year to plan a prank for next April Fool's (I already have some ideas that a certain duo of friends can help me with). I wish I could end this blog post better cuz I feel like it's weak but the reason I'm doing this blog is to let you guys step inside my brain and lets face it, not alot goes on in here and if it does go on, it does't really end like everyone wants it too.

Okay, that's it for this one. Maybe it's kind of a pointless post but I'm about to swallow my pride and just hit "Publish Post". I already regret it.