Grand Rapids....come for the churches, stay for the Nascar and Deer Hunting.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Ex-girlfriends, sprained ankles and exploding toilets.
About a year before my fun trip to the dental school, I was dating this girl for a while who I will call NR since those are her initials. NR was a psycho. I didn't realize it at the time, cause she was also horny, and so was I. But a month or so into the relationship...right around the time the proverbial honeymoon was over, her stalking gene pushed her horniness gene off a cliff and took over the show.
I couldn't take it. We're talking phone-calls up the wazoo...to my house, my friends houses, the pool hall, work and so on. Apparently, NR also had a must know where he is at all moments gene that worked in conjunction with the psycho gene, and they worked quite well together. It was almost as if they had worked together their entire lives.
I left a note one afternoon. On her kitchen counter. Breaking up with her. Not even in person. Big mistake.
NR was not happy. She said so. In a bunch of phone messages that I'm sure violated all kinds of decency acts for what you can say over a phone line. And it was over.
But wait!!! NR's horniness gene was not pushed off the cliff! it was hanging on with it's oh so horny fingers and managed to climb back up to the mountaintop. Psycho and must know where he is at all moments genes took a vacation and horniness got back to work.
NR hooked up with one of my best friends. He asked me if it was o.k. I tried to warn him off but told him to do what he wanted. He was horny too. Her stalking gene took over. Rinse, lather, repeat. He couldn't get rid off her.
Why does this matter? I'll tell you. This buddy of mine was a practical joker. So was I. So were all us dudes who hung out back then.
A few of us had decided to booby trap my buds apartment since he had been getting us with the exploding cigarette trick, so we went to the local hobby/magic/comic book store and purchases 3 items.
1. Exploding cigarette loads 2. Those little mini firecrackers with the strings on each end... you pull, they go bang. and 3. Flash paper.
For those of you who don't know, flash paper is this thin piece of tissue that magicians use. Wad them into a little ball, conceal them in your hand, touch a match to them and you can toss balls of flame in the air that just disappear. no ash, no smoke. very cool.
Our plan was simple. Wrap the flash paper around the mini firecrackers. Tie the strings to any object we could find (a medicine cabinet door for example. Tie one end to the door, the other to the latch, tuck the firecracker inside the cabinet and when someone opens the medicine cabinet, BOOM and a big ball of fire). We tested it before we went over there. It was perfect. Oh, and find every pack of smokes in the apartment and load them with exploding cigarette loads.
So we climbed his balcony and broke into the apartment a boobytrapped a ton of stuff. A buttload. Lots
Then we nonchalantly waited outside at the hotdog joint outside his apartment until he pulled up. This was a common meeting spot, so no suspicions were aroused.
He pulled up and we all filed into his apartment to hang out and watch the caper unfold.
Did he go to the bathroom when he got home? no Open his desk drawer? no. The refrigerator? no. Grab a smoke? Damn! he had some in his pocket. We were content to wait.
A moment later there was a knock on his door and then a little head peeked into the apartment.
It was NR. Crap crap crap. NO-ONE wanted to see her. Not me, not the guys I was hanging with, and not my bud who hadn't left a note breaking up with her yet but I'm sure was really close. Judging by the look on her face, she wasn't too happy to see me either. So the door opens up all the way and she comes hop hop hopping into the apartment. She didn't always hop, but had just sprained her ankle at a softball game at the nearby park.
The must know where he is at all times gene must have informed her that this would be a perfect excuse for dropping in unannounced at my buds place.
NR needed an ace bandage. My bud told her he thought he had one in the medicine cabinet. She hopped towards the bathroom. This was gonna be good.
BANG! went the firecracker accompanied by a large ball of fire. AHHHH went NR. HaHaHa went all us guys except my bud who lived there since he had no idea what the hell was going on.
"VERY FUNNY" said NR from the bathroom. My bud looked confused. The rest of us were trying to get our poker faces back before she came out. But she didn't come out. She lowered the toilet seat to put the ace bandage on. (oh yes...my friends and I had the foresight, since this was a guys apartment afterall, to boobytrap the toilet seat in the "up" position so as not to arouse any suspicion.) This was getting very good.
BANG! went the firecracker accompanied by a large ball of fire. AHHHH went NR. HaHaHa went all us guys except my bud who lived there since he had no idea what the hell was going on.
I won't type what she said at that point, but it was choice. She was pissed. She thought this was intended for her. We put our pokerfaces back on. My buddy just looked at us.
NR came out of the bathroom with the ace on her ankle. She did not want to stay and chat and rather abruptly informed my buddy that if she could just bum a few smokes from him she would be more than happy to get the hell out.
"I think I've got a spare pack in my desk drawer" said my buddy"
This was becoming more than good.
She hopped across the living room, though the hop was much less pronounced now that she had the ace on and opened the desk drawer.
BANG! went the firecracker accompanied by a large ball of fire. AHHHH went NR. HaHaHa went all us guys except my bud who lived there since he had no idea what the hell was going on.
We could not, at this point, maintain any semblance of a poker face. It is hard to do when you're rolling on a floor.
NR was pissed. Very pissed. She grabbed the spare pack of smokes and got the hell outta there.
So we fessed up to our bud about what we had done. Then the phone rang
It was NR at a phone booth...very very very upset. Apparently one of the cigarettes that she had bummed had just exploded her face as she was driving away.
I don't think my bud ever even had to write a note.
Name: Jonathan Home: Grand Rapids, Michigan, United States About Me: Just a guy who trying to eek out a living as a graphic designer in SW Michigan. See my complete profile
Name: Jonathan
That still doesnt explain why you arent a dentist. Wait...maybe it does!