April’s Fools has come and gone but since the Universe was pranking me the entire week leading up to, I think it’s appropriate that I write about it a few days after the fact. (Justification: helping me eat that extra cookie and swearing there was only one of my sizes left, so it must be meant to be, since 2006.) It’s clear there are a few situations that certain groups are discriminated against. For example, career fair and people with sweaty palms. The daylight and anyone who wears glasses but has too much self-respect to get tinted, changing lenses. A krumping contest and white people. You get the gist. Well, April Fool’s and my kind, the gullible gertrudes of the world are like Ronnie and Sammie from the Jersey Shore, one of us is content where this relationship is at and the other is drunk…I’m sorry, and the other is not pleased.
My susceptibility to believe pretty much anyone and anything can be highlighted by a college gem. I was entering a restaurant after a long night and right next door was a bar’s patio, stocked with individuals looking for a good time and clearly an innocent victim. We’ve learned by now that really all it takes to get my attention on a Friday night is to throw a compliment my way and hook, line and sinker I’m sold. So when a drunken buffoon threw out “you’re not horrendous looking,” I instantly began a conversation. My then boyfriend at the time knew that my weakness is hearing people’s stories (it’s the journalism major in me), so when he came out to see me talking with a group leaning over the railing, he just took a seat, began to eat and watch the show unfold. Basically the guy began that he was a winner on the “Price is Right.” While at first I declared “NU-UH,” clearly holding firm to my disbelief, he soon began to convince me that Drew Carey had in
fact sent him to good old Miami of Ohio. Silly Drew though, he meant to send them to Miami Florida, but their tickets somehow got messed up. He said they had a wonderful time jet skiing at a nearby lake and would be leaving soon. I swear I’m not as idiotic as this post makes me sound, and as Akon sang we’re going to blame it on the alcohol, but I walked back to my boyfriend and in disbelief said, “Did you hear that! How crazy!” He was like, “If you weren’t so ridiculously good-looking, I’d break up with you here and now (or something to that effect..) Our airport would be Dayton or Cincinnati, not Miami.” As it began to dawn on me, the couple at the end of the bench decided to join in and also declared me too incompetent to have gotten into this school. Which yes, was justified in that moment, but let’s just use this as a precedent for what April Fool’s would most likely bestow on me.
I should have known what was to come when the weekend before, the pranks began. We had (surprise) more visitors. We decided to head up to Michigan Avenue for some brunch. I rode the bus, walked to Grand Lux and ate a delicious meal with a group of girls. Normal, right? WRONG. After we left the restaurant and began to cross the street to get to Chase Bank I felt something on the back of my thigh. I know this wasn’t a growth, but to any individual checking out my ass behind me (aka ALL OF THEM) it most likely looked like that to them. I stopped mid cross walk and asked my friends what Alien creature was growing out of my back leg and when they looked and couldn’t control their laughter, I knew it was time for damage control. I went into chase and pushed the foreign object down my leg. After a few minutes out came my underwear. Take comfort in the fact that there’s proof that I do laundry, but seriously, who leaves the house without realizing this. Did I just take it to be extra cushion at breakfast? Fat bottomed girls we make the rockin’ world go round..
The week progressed and on Wednesday my roommate had a shitty day, I had a shitty day, and the only thing that wasn’t so shitty was the price of a bottle of wine at dinner. We indulged and things seemed a little brighter. Well due to work overload and the enchanting effect wine has on me, I passed out around 9:30 pm, early for a creature of the night like myself. My mother, also a night owl, gave me a call an hour later. Delusional and half out of it I heard the phone ring and tried to gather my thoughts. I reached for what I assumed was my phone and held it up to my ear. “Hello?” I mumbled. I couldn’t understand why my phone was still ringing till I looked in my hand and saw a T-shirt pressed against my ear and my phone still sitting on my dresser. That went well.
Finally April Fool’s day came and I peered around corners, checked seats before I sat and generally remained a blissful, ignorant fool. I’m happy to say the only prank pulled was when a good friend from home and a fellow member of the SAC CLUB (Sister Act Club Club. A middle school clique, all three of us clearly wore pink on Wednesdays and sat alone. BY CHOICE) convinced me she saw Sister Mary Clarence herself, aka Whoopi Goldberg out in DC. When she said she approached her at lunch and she was really friendly, I thought “so cool! awesome! Oh happy day!” When she elaborated on the story and said she had shown Whoopi our senior show tape, I though, OH NO YOU DON’T! NOT THIS TIME! See, as seniors we did the Sister Act dance for our showcase. I in fact, did fake sign language as my actually gifted friend sang the opening a capella verse, until more friends joined us on stage for some rapping and choreographed absurdness. So while there is no doubt in my mind Whoopi would have been extremely impressed, I knew my friend was just up to her usual tricks. It took all I could to not type back “THE PRICE IS WRONG BITCH.” But I thought no. Let’s leave the bitter memories and emotional scars for Valentine’s Day, April Fool’s can just remain the harmless class clown, pants’ing us in the middle of the crowd. Cause we recover from that in due time. …right? …RIGHT?!