Wednesday, April 1, 2009

i'm going to start blogging more....april fools

i've spent about 12 seconds this morning trying to think of something april fools-ish to put on camelshoes. trying to think of some fib i could tell that would trick you but also be really, really funny. it must be a particularly uncreative morn. the only pathetic thing that crossed my mind was to announce i was 'duffed' but that story would have been full of holes. firstly, i'm not getting any. secondly, i'm from wagga and therefore waaaaaaaaaay to old to get pregnant.

anyway, i got to thinking (carrie bradshaw much) about pranks gone by. there are a few which spring to mind. i will document them here.

we had the most pathetic muck-up day. we had grand plans but our principal, who was new at our school, was a bit of a prick and threatened to withhold the graduation certificates of anyone who took part. so we turned up, threw a few eggs, then ran away and turned on each other. yes, rebellious. we did, however, leave our mark. mark being the operative word. a young mark 'surname' returned to school that eve - with an accomplice or two from memory - roundup in hand. the result was the word PORNSTAR, complete with 'cock and balls', burnt into the top oval. it was brilliant.

zac is my buddy from camp quality. he's a delightful 10-year-old who sports a glass eye. i smile just thinking about zac, tom and harry - the three best buds who i had the pleasure of hanging out with during my time with camp quality in north queensland. zac has spare glass eyes. i don't know how it works. perhaps you have to change daily? perhaps it's just a backup in case of a freak gasoline fight accident? regardless, there are spares. on my first camp, the boys were already veterans and delighted in showing me the ropes. pranks were mandatory. last year, said harry, they put fake spiders in people's beds. the laughter as they reminisced was contagious. this year, the boys were upping the ante. one afternoon, zac sneaked into the camp manager's room and strategically placed a glass eye on her pillow. the boys' anticipation was priceless. the manager's reaction (although highly exaggerated for the benefit of the gag) had them in fits of delight. each camp that followed, zac would seek me out upon arrival, grinning from ear to ear, to inform me he had come prepared to repeat the prank. it made me laugh every time. i hope they're still doing it.

i have a million nicknames. one of them is vjacka. this is the fault of three friends. boys. evil. heading home from a party, we asked the cab driver to pull up short of our destination. i think we were out of money. i don't know. as we were walking the rest of the way, i needed to wee. i always need to wee on the way home from a drinking sesh. it's my trademark. so, the boys walked ahead while i peed behind a wheelie bin. just as i was done, a car came around the corner and scared me. i tripped on the gutter. fell to the ground and knocked myself out. pants still around ankles! i spent the night in hospital. concussion. they boys picked me up in the morning. i remembered nothing. they took pleasure in relaying the story. i was mortified. rusty had had to pull up my pants, apparently. argh. we returned to university where we all lived on campus. i went to bed, still a little sore and dizzy. the boys went about spreading the word. by time i woke up, my new nickname was vjacka. eight months later my plight was rewarded with an 'outstanding achievement in the field of excellence' award. the boys took the stage to retell the story. "but there's one thing we left out of the original version," they announced. i felt sick. what had i done? what were they about to spill in front of 100-or-so of our 'closest' friends. "it never actually happened". what? turns out i did pee behind a wheelie bin. but there was no car. i successfully pulled up my own pants. i ran to catch up with the boys and launched myself on tom for a piggy back. it didn't stick. i fell to the ground and knocked myself out. so the real story begins. the nickname has stuck. i don't mind. in fact, after eight months coming to terms with the fact the boys had seen my 'vjacka', i was almost disappointed the story wasn't true. almost.

1 comment:

Rick M said...

Oh my God, Vjacka...I'm about to die laughing. That is so friggin creative! And the story, fuck, III am disappointed it isn't true.

That would have been the most epic tale to tell the Camp Quality kids. But probably not.

Wagga sounds a lot like Boonah. Wanna swap pregnant teenager stories?

I have 40.

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