Prankenstein

Pranks, I love. Not that I advocate or dispense them upon hapless folks (unless you’re a true-blue, real life friend, then watch out), but there’s this wicked glee to be derived from pranks. So long as you are not the unsuspecting recipient of the practical joke.

A warped blogfriend fired off a text message towards a mobile number which was presumed to be mine. His gag went along the line of soliciting for a textmate and that the number was found scrawled in bathroom stalls.

The true owner of the number freaked and immediately accused another real-life friend of perpetrating the malicious mischief.

Sensing the prolonged, awkward silence blogfriend followed up with a message asking if he indeed reached my number and if not, thereby extending an apology for the mis-targeted gag.

Number owner exhaled in relief and forwarded me the number and messages of blogfriend.

I howled in laughter when I found out of the whole naughty mess.

So I felt obliged to boomerang the joke.

“Pare, pwede maki-sexmate? Errr, textmate.” I thumbed on the message.

He wasn’t amused.

Sore snot.

~ ~ ~

So I’m back. Tired as hell. Gearing for another trip come next weekend.

Also, I have multiple long-overdue blog entries to post.

It isn’t slacking. It’s time deficiency.

Oh, who am I kidding?

Ok, it’s slacking.

Deal with it.