The Ex-Lax-in-the-Brownies Prank

It helps if you picture a less-smiley
version of this guy.

The post I delivered on Friday jarred a few additional memories from my college years, so I think I’ll be sharing some of them in the near future...like today.

The following tale involves a friend of mine whom I’ll refer to as Hurley, because if you were a fan of Lost and were able to flash back in time like many of the principals on that show, you’d instantly recognize the resemblances between my friend and the character portrayed by Jorge Garcia.

My Hurley was about five-foot-eight, 250 pounds or so (I never had the opportunity to weigh him), and usually wore his long wavy Cuban hair in a ponytail so thick that it seemed to defy gravity as it stuck straight out of his head.

Hurley was an area native who lived close enough to the university to be a commuter but, lacking car and driver's license (if I accurately recall), he lived down the hall from me during freshman year, then moved in with some guys from Brooklyn directly across from me.

Hurley was a friendly fellow but was also aggressive when it came to entering our rooms and eating our food. Rather than conduct an intervention with Hurley regarding his behavior, we decided to prank him.

The "Park & Ride" Story, Part 2

This is what it feels like: a wax bonfire.

So anyway, for what it's worth, I turned 40 today.

But enough about present-day me. Let's get to the second part of the story about the time I went to the Park & Ride near the Long Island Expressway and had a couple of interesting encounters.

When we ended the previous story, my friend Chuck freaked out when two otherwise harmless gentlemen revealed to us that they were gay, and he hauled ass out of the parking lot.

I'm not sure what Chuck was afraid of, because I don't think we were in danger of unsolicited sodomy from 10 feet and two layers of car door away. Somehow, though, I was able to convince everyone to return to the scene of the no-crime. Before we returned, Tony insisted we switch seats so I could ride shotgun so it would be easier for me to handle the conversation.

Once we returned...

The "Park & Ride" Story, Part 1

Gather 'round for story Story time!

Throughout one's life, all sorts of events occur. If you're me — and if you are me, please accept my condolences and return my gloves — most of these events are mundane. Somehow, I've been attempting to make many of these mundane happenings somewhat interesting to you, the reader.

Occasionally I'll recall a more memorable event — that is, something less trivial than some book from elementary school that I was reminded of when I mowed the lawn — that I refer to as a capital-S "Story." These are events from my past that, for a short-to-long while, I've told and retold, particularly in settings where telling tales like these are appropriate. Some of my recently recalled Stories include:

• The 7-Eleven Story
• The Mushroom Night Story

I categorize these memories slightly differently the other pieces of my past. I think that's because the Stories have more shelf life than the other events. I do eventually abandon some of my Stories, however, either because I'd forgotten them or because they don't seem as funny anymore due to evolving mores or my age.

CAN I SELL THIS POST ANY WORSE
The following story probably doesn't seem very amusing today — it might seem sad, or even pathetic (and I'm not talking about just my personal involvement — but with enough context, I'm hoping you'll understand what was going in the mindset of the people involved, even if you're shaking your head in disgust anyway.

Wow, what an intro. Are you ready for the Story?

Shiitake Happens, Part 2

Peanut butter put me in a jam!

Previously on The Anthony Show, I was just about to take a bite of a magic-mushroom-embedded peanut-butter sandwich in order to stave off the boredom of hanging out in a club I had no business hanging out in.

Eating a regular peanut-butter-sans-jelly sandwich would have been no small task. I'd only recently begun eating PB&Js, as I hated nut-related foods until I left college; even Snickers bars were eaten with great reluctance. And the only thing that made the PB&J remotely edible was the J.

There was no J, this time...

Shiitake Happens, Part 1

With friends like these...

I begin by reminding you that I have lived a very boring life. It's not an unhappy life (some days are less better than others), just a relatively dull one.

Sure, I've been on one prime-time game show and have appeared, with my wife and house, on a home-remodeling/reality-type show, and I've accomplished a few things worth blogging/bragging about, but I don't have any real juicy stories to tell.

Most of the challenges facing this blog concern squeezing something worth reading out of the ordinary and mundane. The idea of an entertainment based on "nothing" worked for a show called Seinfeld (kids, ask your parents about that one), but in Jerry's case, he had three cooky friends with whom he shared his wacky urban adventures. In my defense, none of my friends later had a very public case of racism.

Therefore, there are certain kinds of tales that you won't find on The Anthony Show. For instance...