‘Hayes-ing’ 101: The Story of Why I Don’t Do Prank Calls

This post is specifically for my very clever colleague over at TheInternView (whose views are not necessarily reflected in this blog), who requested that I do a “hazing” post with a play on words.

I’m actually going to make this a separate category, and any time I remember a story about an exceptionally readable prank, I’ll post it.

This is the story about why I don’t do prank calls…or at least why nobody is ever really pranked from them.

OK.

Pranking Subject: My ex-boyfriend from when I was 18.

First some back story.

One of the reasons it took me 6 years to get my undergraduate degree (saying “undergraduate” makes me feel super important) is that I took about three semester-long breaks while working toward it.

The first of these was the semester right after I had graduated high school. There was no way I was going straight into college. My brain was fried. My body was over it. More school was a definite negatory.

But, I have some family members who live in Los Angeles, and I kind of thought I might want to be an actress, so I worked two jobs that summer and saved up enough money to go live with one of my aunts and her family while figuring out my next life move.

So I get out there and my aunt’s husband has this friend. Diego. 22, cute. Jamaican. Seemed nice. I didn’t have a job, and I didn’t know anyone in LA but my family…so we began hanging out.

I think I met him like a week or so after I’d got out there, and we continued seeing each other the whole 4 months I was in LA and a couple months after I moved back to my current state and enrolled in college (Love does not trump out-of-state tuition, my friend).

And the whole time we were seeing each other, I never really thought more of it than “oh he’s cool, this is nice”-type thoughts. But as the time for me to leave drew nearer, my 18-year-old mind began to hype him up like “OMG THIS MAY BE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE.” And then once I actually left and he hadn’t indicated that our situation was changed (minus, of course, my absence), it became “OMG THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IS STANDING BY ME I’LL COME BACK TO YOU DARLING I PROMISE.”

So fast-forward to March of the next year. I’d been gone for about 3 months at this point. Of course I flew back to LA for spring break. Duh. And I couldn’t wait to see him.

But something was off and I knew it. Especially once I saw him. He looked like he’d had a major breakdown–hair was a mess, beard overgrown. He looked kind of like a hobo. So I go to greet him and I’m like “…wow. You look…different.”

And he’s like “Do NOT say anything about the beard because it’s not going anywhere.”

And I’m like “um…OK….”

So that’s the beginning of my visit with him. And it pretty much went downhill from there, until we ended it before I left.

I was PISSED.

See, that’s the thing with me. I think it’s why my exes and I don’t usually become friends, because if I liked you and it doesn’t work out I get sad, but even more than sad I get like really angry. And I am not one of those “kill them with kindness people”; I’m one of those “kill them.” people. Figuratively, of course.

So anyway, I get home and I’m PISSED and I know he’s been seeing other girls (which, I mean, is to be expected in a situation like ours was but my 18-year-old mind didn’t really process that) and I wanna do something to get even. And my family is egging me on.

My mom suggested having him deported.

One of my aunts suggested calling the police and reporting his car make and model as stolen or having broken a traffic law because his documentation wasn’t really legit and he would more-than-likely have something illegal in his car.

…but I kind of believe in Karma, and even though I may threaten to kill you all day I would never actually do it because I don’t need that negativity out in the universe waiting to come back to me threefold.

So I’m like what can I do to this mothereffer that’s not going to come back on me but will let him know I’m PISSED. And maybe shake him a bit. Just a bit.

So this was around the time that Brooke Valentine came out. Anyone remember her? She’s the one who sang “Girl Fight.” Well I bought her CD and it was legit, and there was this one particular song I really used to rock with called “I Want You Dead.”

So my aunt had come to visit shortly after all this went down, and she my mom and I were all sitting in the kitchen and I was playing that CD. And “I Want You Dead” came on. And, like, half-joking I’m like “I should call that mothereffer [clearly by that time we no longer referred to him by name] and play this song and hang up.”

And my aunt bursts out laughing and is like “Do it! You’ve got to do it.”

So I run upstairs, and I call him, play that song, and hang up. Take that. And then I went to my evening class.

While on break from my evening class, my phone rings PRIVATE.

So I answer it, and a voice (his voice) goes, “Did someone call me from this number?”

And I’m like…”well you called me PRIVATE so I really can’t answer that.”

And he repeats his question. So I repeat my answer.

And he hangs up. So I get home and I tell my aunt the story and she goes,

“Boo-boo [that’s what my family calls me, yeah yeah] you didn’t block your number?!”

And I’m like “No, why would I block my number? Who knows how many females he’s effed over? I want him to know that I, specifically, am the one who wants him dead.”

…and the moral of the story is that the reason why my prank calls never work is because I always manage to give myself away.

Epilogue:

I tried calling his number some time later. It was changed.

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5 responses to “‘Hayes-ing’ 101: The Story of Why I Don’t Do Prank Calls

  1. That is hilarious and definitely something that I would do. With my luck though, I would have forgotten to block my number and the police would have shown up at my door! Thanks for making me smile 😉

  2. This gave me a laugh today – thanks for that 🙂

    It’s funny how you build them up in your mind, I don’t do this anymore but when I was younger, boy, I would set myself up for fail.

  3. Wow… Just Wow… Very Funny post .

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