So, I told you yesterday about the missing porno flick: Anal Clinic, which has probably offended the delicate sensibilities of half my readers. Many of you wondered where the hell the porno went, but in order for me to tell you, I need to give you some background so it makes sense.

In the last years of my High School Experience (I make it sound like I was there for longer than four years. I DID NOT FAIL HIGH SCHOOL, PEOPLE.) I began dating a guy who I’ve mentioned before: Tim. Tim is the guy who messed around with Molly, which I walked in to see.

But before this happened, he was my boyfriend for a couple of years. Tim was a year younger than me, and his family had money, and I mean some serious money. They ran a tobacco and candy distribution company that was hitting the big time for our area, so they made major bank. I mentioned finding a gold brick while looking for Anal Clinic, and it was the truth: there was always crazy crap like that floating around, hundred dollar bills shoved in random places as if by accident. While I was tempted to steal the gold brick, what the fcuk would I have done with it? I’m pretty sure Starbucks wouldn’t take it.

Anyway.

So this family had a butt load of money, and they built a house in an exclusive neighborhood in my hometown, but they made the ridiculous decision to design it themselves, so it ended up being pretty stupid looking. Just like it would be if MY non-architect self tried to design a house and no one told me it was a bad idea.

(My advice to you: if you’re ever in the position to design a house without a degree in architecture, please don’t do it. It will be completely obvious)

But this was a house that was huge, sprawling and well-used. The kids in that family tended to attract some of the more creative friends who would pretty much move in and make mischief with anyone who would come over. I’d call it a Party House, but it wasn’t, not really. It was more like a mini-mental institution for rich kids.

By the time Tim and I started dating, his house had been well-established as the place to do the wackiest shit imaginable. Just as an example: when Tim and I literally first started dating, we went into the guest bedroom on the main floor to make out, right? In the middle of our make out session, three kids in full army gear snuck in, shimmied across the floor on their stomachs and began to pelt us with frozen grapes.

Why? I don’t know. What I did know was that this was absolute mayhem and I loved every second of it.

We’d frequently order pizzas only to scare the delivery driver. There was an alcove on top of the front door in the foyer that someone would stand perched upon when the driver would pull up. He’d walk to the house with the pizza, ring the doorbell, and someone downstairs would open it, showcasing an empty foyer. THEN, whomever was perched on the alcove would jump down in front of the started kid and pay for the pizza.

Freaked ‘em right out.

Another favorite trick was to make slip and slides with garbage bags in the backyard which was on something of a hill. We’d fill up the yard pretty much full of water, turning the grass to mud, and hurl ourselves down it. When we’d get tired of that, we’d make mud people, dress them in Tim’s mom’s dress clothes, naked mud wrestle, then jump into the hot tub and wash off. IN THE HOT TUB.

Nothing was off limits, nothing was sacred, and nothing stopped us. It was freedom and chaos all rolled into one gigantic mud ball.

Another time we found a huge dead fish–from where? Who knows–and on one of the hottest days of the summer, put the rotting body on hood of one of the other kids cars. It actually stripped off some of the paint.

But this is the house I brought Anal Clinic back to watch it. And like several of my driver’s licenses it went missing, probably, I would suspect, by someone intent upon making me do exactly what I had to do: go to a video store and pay for a porno called Anal Clinic. Who wouldn’t be embarrassed by that?

I like to think of those years as the reason I was blessed with two rambunctious boys: I’m obviously well equipped to handle it.

Aunt Becky wants to hear YOUR stories of mischief making. I cannot possibly be the only person who got up to this sort of crazy shit…Am I?

Comments = full of the awesome. Like gravy. I can haz an RSS RSS feed .

36 Responses to Mischief Makers

  • Chris says:

    Aunt Becky,

    I can’t top your stories girl. I did dodge some bullets and gang fights growing up in the city. Oh yeah, I showed up to my AP Calculus test drunk. My friends and I were chased by cops a couple of times. That’s about it.

    Hey, why don’t you post a picture of Tim’s house?

  • kc says:

    Oh lord…times at Tim’s house were crazy. Allow me to add to your recollection…

    1. Many frequent houseguests would urinate on the pet English Bulldog. It was never a good idea to pet that dog. What was his name? Sailes?

    2. I, personally, vomited in every bathroom of that house – how many were there? 50 or so? Christ, that house was huge.

    3. There was also liquor everywhere you looked. It was fairly commonplace to find bottles hidden behind toilets, in couch cushions and under beds. When you would find a bottle, you were to pick it up and gulp. How am I not dead?

    4. You could never be sure of just how many people were sleeping or hiding somewhere at any given time. Walk into a bedroom? Never – chances are some couple was having sex. Hell, it might have been me….or you (but not with the same guy – I had sex with people that did not live there).

    5. Rarely, would you see an adult & if you did, they were either too drunk or hungover to care what any of us were doing.

    6. Tim used to drive me to school after I lost my parking permit for being naughty. Despite the fact that he lived 1 minute from the school, I would have to arrive an hour before class started so that we could drive around and smoke ciggarettes. On occasion, Tim would turn up classical music and recite Sonnets. It was creepy as hell.

    Why did we hang out over there? Oh yeah, free booze.

  • kc says:

    Wow, I am comma happy today, huh?

  • Cassie says:

    We used to sneak into people’s pools to go skinny dipping at night (but that’s probably typical right? oh well). Anyway, once we decided to sneak into this pool in the middle of the day to go swimming (we weren’t really sneaking I guess, we knew the people who lived there and we would go swimming there all the time, they just weren’t home when we decided to go). Anyway, and while we were swimming we all started daring each other to get naked and dive off the diving board, in broad daylight. We never noticed that the guy (an OLD GUY from our church) who lived there came home, and he must have been watching us for quite a while because later we found out that he had told several of his neighbors how great all of our tits were. (I’m assuming he DIDN’T tell his incredibly religious wife). For the rest of the summer, any time he saw any of us he would tell us how we were welcome to go swimming at his house any time we wanted! haha. It was totally CREEPY, even if it was our own faults.

  • kalakly says:

    Okay, funny thing is I think I know the dude who made that film and many more just like it…for serious. I even went to his trial when he got busted for shipping said films vai U.S.P.o.s.t.a.l instead of U.P…..S as we had all warned him to do. He got swept up in a ch.ild p.o.rn sting and had to go to federal court with his 89 year old dad sitting in the gallery while an 87 year old judge asked the lame prosecutor to explain to him what “analingus” was…yea, that was more fun than anyone ever dreamed of…

  • b says:

    My bff Krystal and I were secret stoners. She was a cheerleader, and I was a cowgirl (a member of the FFA by God). We’d drive around smoking weed, stopping by Taco Villa when we had the munchies..etc. Well, one night Krystal decided that she had neglected her Catholic duties far too long, and insisted upon being driven to the church so that she could give confession. She woke the priest up so that she could confess her sins..and I sat in the parking lot smoking a doobie. She was there a while..our sins were numerous.

  • g says:

    I think someone stole the Anal Clinic because they had their own fetish, not because they wanted to humiliate you. That was just a bonus.

    Hmm, let me see…. oh yah, one time my friend and I went and spray painted this big gray wall. It had been taunting us for quite some time, we bought the black paint, put on our black garb and snuck out in the middle of the night. The sad thing was that we painted things like [insert jock's name] is an asshole, [friends band] totally rocks… stupid ass shit that was so obviously us. People made fun of us right away, we played stupid, but it became the wall of shame. We made plans to sneak out again, just to paint over it, but the owners beat us to it (thank goodness and not soon enough). My friend still, to this day, will NOT let me bring it up, it causes her too much embarassment.

  • My mischief stories are far too many for the comment space.

    Sure love hearing yours, though.

    Maybe I’ll recount some of mine own in the blog some day! :)

  • I’ve got nothing.

    I was a boring teen.

    Who liked to race down the city streets buck naked and ring random door bells.

    Nothing near as entertaining.

  • You’re blog is hilarious and I love it..
    Mischief…hmmm…
    A sexual escapade in a glass elevator? I wasn’t too exciting and that wasn’t until college..
    But I do love hearing your stories..and your blog title, my favorite!!!

    (Just FYI, Im from NCLM:)

  • I got nothing except driving around smoking weed. A lot. I totally thought I was badass though. :)

    My boyfriend on the other hand has some great stories. Once he went around his subdivision gathering up all the “gazing balls” that people had on their lawns, and switched them with each other so that when people woke up their gazing ball was a different color. Also once he spray painted a hummer’s tires bright pink. :)

  • Heather P. says:

    I was sickeningly good. I went to Catholic school and they had the fear of God in me. I was always too scared of getting caught, because I knew that my mother would KILL me DEADER than a doornail should I do anything.

  • Mrs.Spit says:

    Ok, I saw this yesterday, and I had to go home and think. Really hard. Cause, honestly, I don’t remember Junior High. (I’d straightened out by highschool). My best story was this.

    It was a house party – his mother was gone. There were drugs,there was drinking, there was a brilliant idea to bbq steaks. Which we were cutting out of the prime rib found in the freezer. (Hey, even stoner’s like a good steak!). Anyway.

    Matt went to open the door, with a butcher knife in one hand and a hunk of bloody meet in the other.

    It was the JW’s. Who wanted to talk about the love of God or the wages of sin or just if we were going to heaven.

    Matt looked at them, two nice, older ladies in their print dresses, and said, without missing a beat.

    “Right in the middle of a sacrafice. Can you come back in an hour?”.

    Brilliant way to get rid of them. Brilliant.

    I miss him so.

  • Heather says:

    Readers Digest Version:

    I used to sneak out to see Jake. One time I snuck out in my parents truck (it was parked farther away from the house so I thought it would be quiter when I started it)

    I was driving down the road and thought I was in 2nd instead of drive, went to tap it into drive and ended up taping it into reverse activating the auto shut off. What I didn’t know was that if I would have just waited it would have started again.

    Instead I panicked, walked back home and told my parents someone stole it. They even called the cops and everything only to go up onto the hill half a mile away and start it right up and drive it home.

    I still can’t bring myself to tell them!!

  • Betty M says:

    Hmm – I’ve got nothing to match you. Being a teen in a girls boarding school in England doesn’t make for great stories.

    I’ve been thinking about your comment on my blog – so far starting over feels more trouble than its worth but I’m trying to turn my thoughts into more than 5 words!

  • Elizabeth Ann says:

    While I was in high school I “acquired” the master key to the school. An oh, the times we had.

    The first trick was to borrow a few pigs from a friends farm down the street. Grease them up with Crisco, and let them loose in the school on a Sunday night -a few hours before someone would arrive to open up the school Monday morning. I promise the pigs came out completely fine, we took them home and gave them baths so they could loll in filth in peace.

    The next one was we lined the all of the school hallway (it was a tiny school) with party cups filled with water. Put them all really close together so you couldn’t walk through them and if you did they allll got knocked over. That was an epic mess.

    Snuck into the administration office and sent out a letter to all school parents on official school letterhead saying that condom machines will be put in all the classroom and bathrooms of the school. Complete with a drawing of how to properly use a condom.

    Put KY lube on all doorknobs and superglued all door locks.

    Tinfoiled everything in the principals office, walls, chair, computer down to the paperclips and chage left on her desk. The following year we did plastic wrap.

    Thats all I can think of right now…but I know there was more. Let me add I never served a day of detention or suspension in my entire school career. I was one crafty brat.

  • Sara says:

    Near the end of our “beautify a-town” campagain we stole a traffice “saw horse”. The kind with the flashing light on top. It sat in our friend’s front porch for a month before I had to finally ask my dad how they turn them off. (He worked for the state highway and knows these things) I think I was grounded for a week or two for that one! Not fun, but any conversation that starts with “So dad, you know those flashing traffic marker thingies? Do those lights always stay on?” is a great one, no?

  • deena says:

    We used to camp in the back yard, and once everyone in the house was asleep (around 2 AM) we would walk down the block and turn people’s waterhoses on (only the people we didn’t like). we lived across the street from the highschool so we would also snag everyone’s mail boxes and hang them on the fence at the school. There was a girl I didn’t like, so late one night my brother’s and I snuck out, got a can of black tar, and tarred her house. I think that house still has black tar marks on the front. I have too many stories to list here.These are just a few. Oh, putting soap bubbles in fountains was also a favorite past time.

  • Coco says:

    Oh, Aunt Becky. Once again, I had to fake a cough while reading your posts. My coworkers must all think I have emphysema by this time.

    I was far too bad to share in the comments. Remind me and I’ll post about some exploits on my blog soon. Heh.

  • Jenn says:

    What I once-upon-a-time thought of as my very full, very mischievous, very experienced teenager years now seem dull and uneventful next to yours. Seriously.

  • shay says:

    um….nope. I got nothin’. well nothing that even comes close to your crazy stories lol.

    My parents would have killed me. ’nuff said.

  • bri says:

    That house would have HORRIFIED me as a teenager. Nearly as much as it does to read about it now. I ran far from danger and mischief. I retreated to my cafes with my books and my journals and my older potential lovers. I channeled Paris and ignored my contemporaries getting stoned in Golden Gate Park and climbing (yes, literally) the Golden Gate Bridge. I was such a goody-goody. Never missed curfew. No drugs, really (unlesss you count nicotine and caffeine). Had a lot of sex, though.

  • Mme. Meow says:

    Not in a million years could I top any of those stories. Saying howdy from NaComThingy.

  • Kristen says:

    Well, I am officially living vicariously through your recollections. I seriously did nothing remotely interesting. making out was the extent of my mischief…

  • babystep says:

    WOW – sounds like a fun time in highschool! You could write a screenplay, I would pay $10 to go see the flick!

    From NCLM

  • Jendeis says:

    Oh my goodness. The house sounds like an episode of some teen drama on the WB. :)

    Never got up to anything cool like that. Though in college, part of a scavenger hunt we were doing would give you 10,000 points for bringing in a toilet. Which we did. We rocked.

    Came from NaComLeavMo.

  • RhoRho says:

    I am still working on my memoir, for the past 5 years… i have tons of this shit, involving camaros, rock’n roll, PBR, setting tequila on fire, Hell’s Angels parties, PGA, of course loss of virginity, and much, much more…are you intrigued?

  • LaskiGal says:

    Bookworm, Nerdy Chick gets dumped by Cool Guy.
    Nerdy chick’s friends determine revenge is in order.
    In their little Duster, Nerdy Chick and friends go to corner store and buy eggs and dog biscuits (will he get the DOG biscuits?).
    Girls head back to cool guy’s house.
    Eggs and doggy biscuits go flying.
    Doggy biscuits stick to eggs.
    Cool Guy peels off biscuits and CAR PAINT. Never sees the culprits.
    A year later Nerdy Chick goes out with Cool Guy.
    While eating CHINESE food, Cool Guy notices he was born “Year of Dog.” Shares doggy biscuit story with Nerdy Chick. Asks if that might have something to do with the egging/biscuiting.

    Nerdy Girl shakes her head, shrugs her shoulders and says, “Maybe.”

  • Vanessa says:

    Hmm… I was pretty low key. I don’t have many crazy stories at all. I did go to a party once in college where I drank so much that I passed out in the bathroom, and woke up in the morning sleeping on some guy’s loveseat, and my pants were sitting in the middle of the coffee table, kind of like I had danced out of them. I also discovered I had given my keys to someone, who had to have been at least as drunk as me, and he left me there.
    That’s about the craziest that i can think of right now.
    …via NCLM…

  • Jessica says:

    Very impressive! I do not have anything that good: I was rather a goody-goody, which I now regret.
    The only thing that I ever did was hang out with boys. I grew up with boys, they were a lot nicer than most girls. I played like a boy: Mud fights, jumping in rivers, running around like a crazy. My grandmother wasn’t too impressed when I came home the one day soaked from head to toe and mud EVERYWHERE! Her insult: You’re worse than a boy! To which I promptly answered: Thank you.

  • Wishing4One says:

    My thursday laugh…AGAIN. You have to stop this Aunt Becky, you are waaaaay too much and I luv ya, don’t eva’ stop!

  • deb says:

    Aunt Becky,
    My story(ies), if they were to fall into the wrong hands, could get me a) divorced or b) jailed. Not sure which of those is worse right now but it is that fear that keeps me from playing along on this one. Much as I would love to – cause OMG! do I have stories. Maybe another time/another place…

  • honeywine says:

    Nope just you. lol I plead the 5th! But the best is shocking the people in charge like the principle.

  • I love reading your blog, it always makes me laugh!

    When I was 13, I took my parents’ old junker car out for spins around the neighborhood, with my little sister in tow. We only got caught because our older sister tattled on us after about the 3rd or 4th time.

    That’s about the worst thing, other than sex with my boyfriend, and you know, the whole teenage pregnancy thing.

  • tash says:

    My crazy shit doesn’t hold a candle to your crazy shit. My town was boring, capital B, so we did things like race cars. Or chase people in cars. (We were not so much for the safe.) Re-enact the Gray Poupon ad in the middle of traffic. Stop, get out, and make lewd gestures toward the Bob’s Big Boy statue. Wiffle ball golf through the university when it was empty. (A cop actually radio’d in to ask if what we were doing sounded kosher or illegal. I guess we just passed.)

  • quietgirl? says:

    I had a wealthy ex too, no gold bricks but I did find a dollar bill once in a suitcase they loaned me for when they swept me to Europe. It seemed to me like money made for fucked up little egotistical nihilists. I mean we’re all crazy I guess, but he really was a poor little rich boy who had nothing worth caring about because everything was already in the bag… Money is weird. It really did make for a weird eccentricity. Like I could totally see my ex of doing the same classical music sonnet shit… Man I just shivered a little.
    That’s a crazy mad party house tho! I had a friend who described one of her friends places kind of like that, not even that crazy. Again, money… That would have been some crazy fun shit though to be a teenager drinking random bottles from the couch. I could totally see it. Sounds like it was a time! :)

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