The news cycle this week has been dominated with scammer talk, and while that usually fuels the darkest corners of my soul, I’ve found all the Caroline Calloway theorizing exhausting. Then I remembered that I don’t have to read anything. I can click out of shit and do my day job, which includes coming up with a weekly prompt for Pissing Contest. Then it hit me: you know what’s more fun to talk about than scammers, those vindictive few with little regard for their fellow person? Pranks. Good and bad people alike have been known to pull a prank in their day; you could argue fucking with friends or family or whomever is humanity’s great equalizer. Or you could not, but for the sake of this blog, I will.
Tell me: what’s the greatest prank you ever pulled? Who did you pull it on? Bonus points for elaborate bits. Winner gets the glory of being cleverer than everyone else in the comments.
But first, let’s take a look at last week’s victors. Y’all have had sex in some really gross places:
Assistant Undersecretary of Only Okay, you win:
On top of my ex? He hated showering so only did it once or twice a month. He liked it when I would lightly scratch his back (not as part of sex, just as a relaxing thing) and I would end up with gunk under my nails afterward. My explanation is I was… going through a lot.
doit2julia!, you also win, but that means you lose:
On an ATM in Herald Square.
MeMeMimi, You’re a real one for this:
69’d with a coworker on the floor of Blockbuster after closing. (We both had managerial privileges, so we knew where the security camera blind spots were.) Disney’s Tarzan had just come out on video (oy am I dating myself with this comment) and I used a stuffed promotional toy as a pillow. I apologize to anyone who eventually purchased that toy, but I promise there were no, uh, especially intimate bodily fluids on it, only some sweat. Maybe.
I have become traumatized by this story, Cavey:
My fiance and I were councilors at a youth retreat. 3 days into camp, we got caught in an open field when a massive thunderstorm kicked up so we headed to the only shelter available… underneath a flat bed trailer. Unfortunately all of the other creatures in that field had the same idea. What started as a scene right out of a cheesey Scinimax movie quickly turned into one from a horror flick.
When we were done we noticed that we were surrounded by rodents and more bugs than I care to name. The bugs made a feast of the backs of my legs and my (now) wife bashed her head when she jumped out from under the trailer.
And this one, MightyMitochondria:
I will say, the floor of a bathroom in a hostel. It was a single bathroom, not dorm style, though people were still waiting to shower/sh*t/ what have you. At the time I was 23, and I thought porking in a bathroom would be hot, until I saw a roach. At least we put a towel down on the floor.
jcn-txct, this is gross. Also why does it matter that she was chubby? Come on, dog.:
During the summer between my sophomore and junior year of high school, I got a job at a meat packing plant. My job was shoveling the scraps, fat and bits that the workers trimmed of the carcasses into big huge stainless steel carts that would dump into a huge grinder. An older chubby woman (30’s) flirted with me, eventually there was frequent sex on the bloody pile of scraps, fat and bits of meat between work shifts. To this day, I chuckle when I smell raw meat.
Be careful, IAMRU2:
On the sticky, unthinkably gross floors of a friend’s nightclub after a huge private party, with people passed out all around us, and pretty much right after my partner had been uncontrollably vomiting for an hour.
It was also the first time we didn’t use protection, due to drunkenness…
LizzieMae out Philly’ed me by a lot:
Well, anyone who’s ever spent time in Philly knows the horror of the bathrooms at Dirty Frank’s. After banging in both of those, I decided to top myself by banging a guy in the alley out back. (Mind you, these bangings were spread out over several years, obviously I’m a very classy gal). But I don’t think it gets much “dirtier” than that.
Interesting sidenote: we got mugged at gunpoint mid-bang in the alley.
Glitterpussy, I love the gingerbread house story:
Inside a dusty old gingerbread house at my city’s big Christmas lights display. I still remember that guy fondly, he was so adventurous! Also a Sears dressing room and in the back of a paintball supply store…both in high school. But you’re basically doing it anywhere you can get away with in high school right?
Anne Hedonia, I can never forgive you for the Greyhound trip to bone town:
In the tiny, smelly bathroom of a Greyhound bus, with a guy I met on the bus. Ugh. UGH.
Or, my all time favorite: I screwed the cabbie driving a taxi I was in, because he was cute and also had an Irish accent (and I was bored). We went to the beach, shagged there, and afterward we were laying on some blankets, and he had his hand on my flaps, rummaging around. Suddenly he said: “Ooh! I’ve found a wee grain of sand!” – but his voice, when he said this, sounded EXACTLY like Lucky the Leprechaun in the old TV commercials, when he would say “Ooh, I’ve found a wee four-leafed clover”? I replied: “Why don’t you make a wish and fly away?”, and laughed so hard I was crying. Irish Cabbie got all kinds of butthurt.
numberthirteen, suddenly I cannot stop scratching myself?:
A girl I very briefly dated’s bedroom was FULL of fleas. She was so used to them that she didn’t even seem to notice them, whereas I (staying at her place for the first time) thought I was getting eaten alive.
When I pointed out the presence of the biting jumping horrors, she got really aggressive about it all and threatened to just dump me out on the street “if you’re so bothered about it” – bearing in mind I had traveled about 30 miles to see her and it was about 1am.
The thing was that we were mid-sex when I first noticed them, as I’d been busily occupying myself going down on her for a while before she eventually dragged me into her room; it was only when she had pulled me on top of her that I started noticing the biting on my back and my arms.
I still feel itchy thinking about it all those years later.
I knew there would be at least one porta-potty tale. Thank you for your service, singedvinegar3:
A toilet at T In The Park, in a portable toilet, with my very-now-ex-fucking-boyfriend, in 2007. The sex was spectacularly shit and the air stank of it. God knows why we decided to shag in a toilet (oh, hold on, it was because we’d both got as high as kittens in a testing facility and as horny as you could and no one wants to shag in a tent surrounded by hundreds of drunken neddy Scottish people). Thing is, I slipped on something, it was that dim in that toilet that I dared not look down but instead managed to get out of the porta-shitter and fucking squelch my way back to our tent, where I bagged-and-binned my trainers.
My best friend refers to my ex as Jim the Jobby. Jobby, by the way, is Scots slang for shit. She has no idea how apt that nickname is.
Drop those pranks below. I promise the victim doesn’t read Jezebel.*
*Obviously I can’t actually promise this, unless they’re dead. Then, well, who cares?