From the time we pulled into the parking lot, it was clear that something was wrong with the birthday girl. She seemed a little odd and less than enthused. Here we were, absolutely brimming with excitement and anticipation and the birthday girl seemed, well, annoyed.
We headed toward the theater and as we were walking, our friend smelled a rat. "What's in the tote bag?" she quizzed. We gave an evasive answer and kept on truckin. But once we were seated, she started in again, demanding to know what was in the bag. Not wanting to create a huge incident in the mostly senior citizen filled theater, we showed our friend what we had smuggled in. She seemed ok with most of it, but we were warned within an inch of our lives, not to let that sign see the light of day. We promised that we wouldn't take it out, but we didn't mean it.
By the time old TJ took the stage, we had our ammunition locked and loaded. Once he got rolling, we would start firing giant underwear at the stage. We agreed that when he sang "What's New Pussycat", we would pelt him with panties.
Let me tell you a little something about ole TJ and that song. First of all, he gyrates his hips in the most obscene air hump you have ever seen. And the dude does not wear underwear, because his kit was swinging like a jungle gym. I feared that his careening genitals would poke out the eye of some unsuspecting senior, unfortunate enough to be sitting in the front row. The look of shock and horror on the faces of the blue hairs is something that I will remember for the rest of my life. And if that's not enough. . . When he sings the last line "You and your pussycat nose" he sings it like this:
You and your pussssssssyyyyyyyyyyyy (long dramatic pause) cat nose.
Again, the elderly were aghast and our poor friend was mortified.
OF COURSE we slingshot underwear on the stage
OF COURSE some of it was men's
OF COURSE we nailed the drummer with the cupless bra
AND
OF COURSE we put up the sign.
Nothing happened. No kisses were offered. But our friend was M.A.D. Between being carsick from driving around blindfolded for an hour, to being publicly called out for both her birthday and for wanting a kiss (which she would have rather sucked a hospital mop, by the by) and the fact that none of us really liked Tom Jones and were only there for the irony of it, she was one very unhappy camper. And we were all left with a searing case of pranker's remorse.
The late, great, Johnny Carson used to say that the key to a great joke was - know your audience, timing and commitment. We clearly had only one of those things right and as I look at the calendar, I realize that August will be here before we know it and we will once again be drawn together to celebrate this friend's birthday. But instead of sitting around the fire reveling in what awesome pranksters we were, we will be reminded of our singular, but epic birthday fail.
F.U. Tom Jones. I hope your d1ck falls off. Aw, who am I kidding? F. Me.
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