*This blog post is not prurient, but you may not want to read it at work.
When I was in college, I was a faithful reader of our campus newspaper, “The Michigan Daily”. My favorite part of the newspaper was a tiny section about two inches wide called “Crime Notes”. I loved the “Crime Notes”. It wasn’t just about the petty crime; in order for a crime to make the campus crime notes it had to be absolutely ridiculous.
After Operation Inexplicably Fat Dead Possum, I was absolutely salivating to make the campus crime notes. Also, our hatred of the bitchy sorority girls across the street continued to grow.
This particular sorority was known for its ridiculous hazing. This included asking pledges to perform sexual favors in front of everyone, and humiliating girls by stripping them and circling their body fat (also in front of everyone). Quite frankly, those bitchy girls deserved far worse than our silly pranks.
This time, we decided to focus on the rumors, and help educate them about safe sex. However, in order to do that, we were going to need condoms, a LOT of condoms. Rather than go to the store like normal people and buy a
party-sized large box of condoms, we decided to utilize the free condoms from University Health Services.
Now, when you’ve given birth in front of a small army it becomes impossible to be prudish about your body. However, at the time I was nineteen and still pretty innocent. I walk into UHS, and head up to the second floor. I whisper to the secretary, “Where are the free condoms?”
She whispers back. “They’re right there.”
Sure enough, I look down, and they’re right in front of me. I feel my whole face turning red. I don’t want to look like a nympho so I grab 4-5 condoms and stuff them in my jacket pocket. Every single day that week, I go back to UHS, wait until no one is looking, and grab 4-5 more condoms. A few of my housemates also go, grab way bigger handfuls than me, and we quickly accrue around 100 condoms.
Our goal is to decorate the sorority house’s front trees with condoms, but we need to be able to do it quickly. So we end up blowing them up like balloons and tying them onto string. That way all we’ll have to do is run across the street and loop quick circles around a couple of trees. We also make a sign for them on neon green poster board. We wear rubber gloves while making the sign… although in retrospect it hardly matters because our saliva is all over the condoms.
Surprisingly enough, our plan goes off without a hitch. We leave them a charming display of condom-decorated trees and a lovely sign about STDs. The next day, everything is still sitting there.
Since I’m determined to make the illustrious crime notes, I decide to take matters into my own hands. I call campus security, and use my best Miss. Priss voice. “I am so offended by that condom display. It’s like someone thinks STDs are a joking matter. Campus security should be all over this. It’s an outrage.” They ask me for the address, and then inform me that it’s not their concern because it didn’t occur on campus.
I am crushed, absolutely crushed, but I continue to berate the operator. “Well, someone should remove that horrid display.” She suggests I call the Ann Arbor police department. Then she proceeds to hang up on me.
Dejected, I give up on my dream of making the campus crime notes, and instead focus on tequila. (I don’t really remember the tequila, but I’m told it was quite a lot.) When we finally do make the damn crime notes, it’s because one of my housemates got her bike stolen.
Alright, I’m not going to ask for condom stories. (I don’t really want to know any of you that well.) How about you tell me about pranks instead? Better yet, ever call the cops on yourself?
**I’m saving my husband’s crime notes story for another day, but I promise that story is classic.
***No comment on who masterminded this particular prank. Some weirdo.