FIRST TBY GUEST BLOGGER POST EVER. Lottery Practical Joke.

If you follow me on Twitter you probably know one of my best blog friends is @TrinaLikesWine . Se cracks me up everyday and we also DM and email and just laugh. (And she's hot too. Just so you know).

Well if you're a reader of this blog you know that I love practical jokes. Many of the classics I've performed over the years are in here. Well here is a great one that Trina did a few years ago. I give you... the first ever THAT BLUE YAK guest blogger post and a great practical joke:

Ever had a coworker who annoyed you to your core? One who disrupted the unspoken office rule of "Don't talk to me until I've had my first cup of coffee"...The guy or gal who thrived on exerting their non existent knowledge on everything. Gossipers, Corporate conspiracy theorists, Blowhards...you get the picture. I worked with just that type of guy. His name was Derek.

Derek was the expert on everything. He had no kids of his own, but would let my female workers know what he'd do in the arena of discipline. Cooking? He knew of a secret recipe that would blow yours out of the water. He wasn't trained for Information Technology but was convinced he could develop an application for our group to utilize. 40 hours of testing later his program was scrapped…too many so called, “Glitches” for Derek to correct.

One skillset Derek did possess was the art of sucking up to management. Inflate a manager’s ego and you’re set.

My coworkers and I were tired of Derek but could never come up with a good way to get him to shut up and sit down. Among the things I knew about Derek was his passion for the lottery...He was forever trying to get an office lottery pool going, but would often go out on his own and purchase the tickets on his lunch break. He'd then keep the tickets in his desk as though he slept the night before like a kid on Christmas Eve. I could picture him thinking he'd strut into the office, open his desk drawer and exclaim, "OH MY GOD! IT CAN'T BE! I'M RICH!" as though money would make up for all his inadequacies combined.

In his mind, getting rich quick meant all the office females would flock to him in droves. He'd then have the pleasure of puffing his chest and announcing he would be moving on to greener pastures with his posse of beauties..

One morning, as I sipped my first cup of coffee, Derek came over and plopped his sloppily dressed ass into my guest chair. He leaned in, lowered his voice and looked around as though he was about to reveal state secrets. "Do you play the lottery?" he asked. Beyond uninterested and annoyed at his violation of the cardinal "1st Cup of Coffee" rule, I didn't disguise my disinterest..."No.." I replied, "Do you really think anyone wins that stuff? I don't bother." Unfazed by my blatant disdain for his presence he continued, "Well, I don't know if you've heard, but the jack pot is close to 2 million bucks..." As though my nonexistent chances of winning a hot 2 mill would excite me. "Wanna start an office pool?" he asked. "I don't think many would be interested Derek...How about you go for it?”, I muttered sarcastically and turned away towards my computer. As Derek walked away I had an epiphany....

The winning lotto numbers were announced the following evening on TV. I endured the torture of having to watch as the highly excitable host and blonde lotto beauty delicately opened the vacuum tube to allow the lotto balls to load. Pen and paper in hand I took note of the winning numbers. I woke extra early the following morning and bought a lottery ticket emblazoned with the winning numbers. I snuck into the office early and placed the ‘winning ticket’ among his purchased lotto tickets.

About half an hour later, Derek came into the office. We were all in cubes so I could him performing his usual morning tasks before coming to annoy me. He hung his coat, logged into his computer (“So there was a record of getting into the office early”, he once told me), and proceeded to open his desk drawer. Not long after, one of my coworker friends came over.

I could tell by the expression on her face that something was brewing, but kept my composure. “Trina, has Derek come over to you yet?” she asked. “No”, I replied calmly, “Actually it’s been nice having a quiet morning, why?” She proceeded to tell me that Derek had gone over to her desk with the lottery ticket and asked her to double check the numbers as he was in complete disbelief.

Since she was my friend, I proceeded to tell her of my master plan. I made her swear to not say anything and to tell Derek to bring the ticket to me to double check…You know, as a third set of eyes…She agreed and not long after, Derek appeared in my doorway with a shit eating grin on his face.

His skin under his exposed carpet of chest hair was red and mottled, not unlike a schmeer of raspberry jam. His face was flushed and his hands were fidgety. I disliked this cat so much that I had no trouble keeping my composure. “What’s going on ‘D’?” I asked, as though he was a pal of mine.

He sat in my guest chair, dabbed his exposed forehead with his hanky and said, “I think I hit it…” I put on a look of confusion, “Hit what? Oh god, is your car ok?” He nearly jumped out of my chair, “No! NO! The LOTTO!” I can’t believe what I’m reading! Can you double check these numbers?” He had a print out of the previous night’s numbers and gingerly handed me the ticket as though it was made of glass. I took both, pretended to intently study each number, then looked again, and again…I feigned a huge wide-eyed look…”Jesus, this can’t be right! Have you called the commission?” He got a little more excited after my quality number check. “No, I’ve never won! Is that what I do?” “I don’t know man, but maybe in a bit give them a call. This is unbelievable”.

Then I fed into his euphoria by asking whether he’d continue working or enjoy the spoils of his big win. At this point I was afraid he’d go tell management to go screw themselves so I finally said as I glanced at his one way ticket to faux paradise, “You know? I do see one discrepancy.” He leaned in and read over my shoulder. “No, Trina the numbers match. Exactly, see?” “Yeah,” I replied, “but look, it’s today’s date.

Gotcha!” I didn’t gloat, didn’t laugh, but instead spun in my chair and continued my work. Needless to say, I didn’t see Derek in my visitor chair for a very, very long time. Coffee never tasted so sweet….

How I Used To Torture People With Secret Santa. Brooke Shields.

Does anyone do the Secret Santa at work? We used to do it and I would love to torture people with it.

I would torture people because there were a few women in the department that would practically break into tears when their present would get stolen. As if they couldn't just go out and spend $15 on the bottle of wine that was just taken from them.

So every time a really good gift was revealed and one of the crybabies got it, we would pressure the next person to take it away, "Come on Jill. You HAVE to take that bottle of wine...Come on...do it! Do you know how good that wine is?..The next present could be junk!"

One year my gift was a little thing I liked to call,"Things From My Garage". It was a wrinkled, brown paper bag full of various things like nails, sandpaper, etc. Basically....things from my garage.

Most of the women were like, "Come on! You can’t do that! That's not fair!" But I'd say, "Sure it is, have you priced nails and sandpaper lately? They're very expensive. May I suggest re-gifting it to perhaps a brother or Uncle that is handy?"

At the end of everything I did reveal that there was cash hidden in at the bottom of the box. I forget if it was $40 or $50 but it was way more than the limit that was supposed to be used for gifts. You should have seen the look some of the faces. Oh the regret.

Another year, knowing that one woman in the department had an obsession with Brooke Shields, I put a few random things in the box including a book about Brooke Shields and I forged a signature. I even went online and copied the Brook Shields signature because the woman in the department actually owned things that had Brooke's autograph on it. But the funny thing is that she didn't know I knew about her obsession because she was embarrassed about it so it was supposed to be this big secret. But everyone knew.

So my present gets picked and the person is going through the random things and says, "A Brooke Shield's book? That's weird."

Everyone is kind of rolling their eyes and I say, "Look inside. It's autographed."

Well the Brooke Shields fan's eyes light up and she's like,"Can I see that?" But she's trying to play it cool. She looks at the autograph and it's obvious on her face that
"this thing is real!" Like shes an antiques roadshow expert or something. She looks around to play it cool in the way someone would flip through a book and
find $500 hidden in it. You know what Ann? It’s friggin’ Brooke Shields. Nobody cares.

Well she finally ends up with the Zibbs Potpouri box. All excited and shit. I did feel kind of bad so at the end of the whole thing I told her it was a fake autograph. You know, so she didn't try and get it valued and find out it was worthless. As if the real thing would be worth anything anyway. Right? Right?

I've Got A Confession. Twitter And WCLinda.

I, Dr Zibbs ( @DrZibbs on Twitter) and WcLinda (@wclinda on twitter) are the same person. It's true.

I started the WCLinda character a few months and was planning to do one of several things:

- Show up to a tweet up in drag as WCLinda and out myself.
- Have my sister show up at a tweetup as WCLinda to confirm she was actually real.
- Have her stalk DrZibbs. They did actualy imply that they met for drinks the other night. And then I also had her drunk tweeting the other night.

But as time went on, I started to feel guilty that people were going to feel tricked. In a bad way. As opposed to, "Oh my God that was great...hahaha."

I think maybe four people knew. One found out accidentally when I accidentally Dmed from my WCLinda account.

So there it is. Thanks for the memories. So did any of you have your suspicions? I know one person that did but I think she knew 100 percent it was me.

Please share your thoughts in the comments area.

Real Practical Joke. Calendar Models. College High Jinks.

So I while back on my blog I did a series of posts about practical jokes I've done. Here's another one. Grab a carpet mat and have a seat and I'll treat you to another one. Gather in closer now.

You! No eating!

OK. So it was in college and I'm walking down the dorm hall and this jackass that I never could stand was leaning against a doorway harassing this shy girl.

Guy: So admit it Patty. You're a virgin.

Shy Girl: Will you just shut up.

Guy: It's not a big deal. But why won't you admit it? You're a virgin aren't you?

Shy Girl: (about to cry) Just shut up.

This had been going on for a while.

So later on that night, I was hanging out with these two chick that were really funny and asked the one to do this. I was going to do it myself but was afraid he'd recognize by voice. So the one called him:

(Phone rings)

Guy: Hello?

My Chick Friend: Hello is this Barry?

Guy: Yeah.

My Chick Friend: Well hello Barry, this is Mary Ann from American Collegiate Calendars.... And the reason we're calling is that we put out a calendar every year featuring various students from colleges in the region and we'd like to see if you'd be interested in posing.

Guy: (All excited and shit) Really?

My Chick Friend: Really. Now we did get your name anonymously from someone that apparently watches you play football? - looks like you've got an admirer. Would you mind posing in your football outfit?

Guy: Yeah OK.

So we give him more info and tell him that the photographer was going to be at a specific building in a week. This jackass was so excited he called every friend he knew, called his parents and was walking around like a dick.

So the day comes and I see him walking out of the dorm. About an hour later he comes back all pissed off, opens his door and throws his crap in the room.

Mission accomplished. Don't mess with Zibbs.

Practical Jokes, Weddings and New Blog Readers.

That's it - I've got it! I just thought of a great practical joke. Once I find a new reader that seems very vulnerable, I thought I could lead her on. Like I'm in love with her. You guys can help by leaving comments on her blog saying, "He totally likes you".

Then, on the wedding day, all of you guys can pretend to be my real life friends. And just when I'm supposed to say "I do" I'll say,

"I...I...(looking at you guys in church trying not to laugh)..I GOT YOU". Some one can crawl up behind her and and I'll push her over you so she falls on the floor.

Then the priest will pull off his fake mask showing he's some D list actor (maybe Screech from Saved by the Bell or David from Eight is Enough) and a huge drape will fall on the alter that's covering a huge monitor that's shows all of the people she works with watching this hysterical joke.

Then we'll all point and laugh. Is everyone in?

Clarinets, Practical Jokes, Traditions and America

So here's another practical joke/leg pulling in my series. Years ago when I was first dating Mrs Z, she and my sister's boyfriend were over my parents house for a big 4th of July party. It was probably the 3rd or 4th time each of them had been at the house. So this is what happens:

Me: (to future Ms. Z and boyfriend): So did Julie tell you two about the speech?

Ms Z: What speech?

Me: The 4th of July speech.

Boyfriend: What are you talking about.

Me: My Dad is really patriotic so every 4th of July, before he plays some patriotic songs on the clarinet, he asks that new people do a speech about what America means to them.

Ms Z: Are you kidding?

Me: Well it's not really a speech, you just have to tell some things about why you think America is great, or 4th of July memories. Stuff like that. But you should make some notes because it's got to be like five minutes long. And don't make a mockery of it while you're doing it because...well.....just don't.

Boyfriend: Five minutes each?

Me: Yeah each or you can do it together. Either way, you guys should start thinking of some things because you have to be ready right before dinner. We'll be doing it in the living room. That's the tradition.

I let them suffer for about five minutes then I told them I was kidding. Suckaaaaas.

Make Sure You Know How to Order At Geno's Steaks

Blogging about cheesesteaks the other day got me thinking about another practical joke I did. Well, not really a practical joke, more of "pulling of someone's leg" I guess you would call it.

The Scene: Geno's Steaks (Cheesesteaks) in South Philly. It was over a holiday break from college. My friend Flare had brought his friend Woody from Georgetown to stay over his house for the weekend. After a night of drinking, we end up at Geno's Steaks in South Philly.

If you've never been to Geno's Steaks, it's a cheesesteak stand. At 3:00 on a Saturday night there can be 50-100 drunk people in line so you have to be prepared to order quickly. And if you don't order correctly they get pissed and yell at you. I can't stress enough that these people have no sense of humor. Think Soup Nazi but Italian and 300 pounds.

A correct way to order would be like this: Large steak wit wiz and onions (this means with cheese wiz and onions) and a large coke. The second after ordering you then walk down the line to pick up your order. When you're ordering, you have a pissed off thug looking back at you through a tiny window.

So Woody's heard what the ordering is like. He's a bit nervous about ordering so I explain the whole thing. Then, this happens right before he gets to the window:

Me: ..oh yeah. And there's one more thing. If you say, "City of Brotherly Love", you get free fries.
Woody: Really?
Me: Yeah.
Cheesesteak Nazi: NEXT!
Woody: (Leans toward window nervously and starts order) ..Um yes...I'll have a large cheesesteak wit onions and wiz and a small coke. City of Brotherly Love.
Cheesesteak Nazi: (yelling order to cook) Large cheese wit onion and wiz!.....NEXT!
Me: He didn't hear you say the end part.
Woody: City of Brotherly Love.
Cheesesteak Nazi: (getting annoyed at Woody)..OK buddy ..NEXT!
Me: (Out of the corner of my mouth) No. You've got to yell it to the guy cooking or it won't count.
Woody: (leans his head inside the window) CITY OF BROTHERLY LOVE! EXCUSE ME..CITY OF BROTHERLY LOVE!
Cheesesteak Nazi: GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!...NEXT!

Everyone inside and outside the place is looking at Woody. We move down the line to pick up our order. Woody looks a bit confused as to why everyone is looking at him.

Me: Oh yeah. I just remembered. That thing about the brotherly love? I just made that up.

Practical Joke I Did During A Blizzard

I love practical jokes. In fact, I may just make this a regular feature on the ole' TBY. Here's one that I did years ago:

Setting: Early 1990's during a blizzard in PA. We lived in a condo in Delaware County. About 8 inches were already on the ground. Everything, well, almost everything was closed. Annnnnnd ACTION.

Tom, our neighbor in a third floor units has ordered a pizza. A man who looks as if he is 70 years old, trudges past our first floor unit and makes his way up the outside wooden stairs to deliver the pizza to Tom.

Me: (to wife) What the hell? Look. What's that old guy doing with that pizza?
Wife: (looking out window in amazement) I thought everything was closed? Oh my God he's going to kill himself. Who the hell ordered a pizza in this?
Me: Holy crap Tom did it.

Grasping to the railing, Pizza man slowly makes his way down the icey steps, carefully gets into his way to his car and leaves.

Me: That's it (reaches for phone and dials Tom's number)
Wife: What are you doing?
Me: Oh you'll see. (Tom picks up phone on the other end of line. I start talking like an old man in pain). Are you the guy that ordered the pizza?
Tom: It was already delivered.
Me: (still talking as old man) No. I'm the one who delivered it. I just fell. I'm lying in the parking lot out here!
Tom: (frantic) WHAT? OH MY GOD!
Me: I just fell and I'm talking from my cell phone in the parking lot. I think I broke my back. Help me. Help...(voice fades)

Tom then hangs up the phone and comes barreling down three flights as fast as he can without falling. He goes past our condo and into the parking lot. I walk out calmly. Tom is looking all over, no old man is in site, he heads back toward his condo and confronts me.

Tom: (confused) You're not going to believe this.. I ordered this pizza..and then this old guy came and then...(looks at me)
Me: (leaning up against post, eating a sandwich. Trying to act as if I'm intrigued by his story.)
Tom: ..And then....and...OH YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!

And Cut!

Does anyone else have any good practical jokes stories they want to post? If you do, leave a note in the comments telling us that you've posted it.