...And since you already know I'm lying, I'll go ahead and spare myself the grief of typing this whole story in third-person.
New Year's Eve 2012 started out normal enough. My husband and I were running late to the NYE Party of the Year. I promised the hostess that when we got there "Shit was gonna get REAL," and it kinda did - we're all responsible 30-somethings, right? Most of us had kids at the party for goodness sake! Since I was late, I had some catching up to do, but it didn't take long for the demon-fire-water to do its thang and my alter-ego, Virginia, to show up. She's crazy. She kissed the hostess at midnight and even won in a dance off with I-don't-remember-who. Giddy Up!
Games played, snacks eaten, demon-fire-water consumed, hostess kissed, kids tucked in. It was time. Time to...you guessed it...get Wild AND Crazy. And it went something like this:
Ladies to each other: Alright. You ready?
Ladies to Husbands: Okay. You got this, right? We won't be gone long. Unless we need you to bail us out. Then we'll call.
Ladies to each other: Let's roll. (haha)
Me...er...Virginia: Oh shit. They're leaving me. You're sure you'll bail us out right?
Husbands to Virginia: Nope. Have fun. Don't get caught.
We drove to Wal-Mart, bought the necessary supplies, chatted it up with a drunk, pierced, tattooed guy there with his wife and kids, then ran back out to the car.
By now, you may have guessed what we did. If you thought, "They're in their 30s, so they probably just drove around eating chocolate and listening to Ice Ice Baby or Hot Stepper," then you're partially right. If you thought, "OH NO THEY DIDN'T GO WRAP A HOUSE?!?!?! HOW COOL IS THAT?!?! I WANT TO BE THEIR FRIEND!!!" then you hit the nail on the head.
But we didn't wrap just any house. We wrapped the parsonage. The. Preacher's. House. Uh. Actually, we wrapped THE. PREACHERS'. HOUSES. Here's a picture of the just-wrapped Sr. Pastor's house.
It was dark, and my flash wasn't working. But you can clearly see a porch light and two AWESOMELY long strands of toilet paper. Let your imagination fill in the rest. And here's what it looked like the next day.
The next morning, we all felt triumphant! We are in our 30s, and we wrapped a house! We drove by to get a really good picture, and it turns out it just looked like we had littered. Oh the guilt. The shame. We wrapped the preacher's house. Will he know we did it because we like him? Will the Associate Pastor know that our one-ply wet mess was really a gift of love? Our parents raised us well, I suppose because we knocked on the door and told them that we saw that some hooligans had wrapped their house, and as upstanding members of the church, we were going to clean it up for them. I'm pretty sure they believed every word...then they took our picture and shamed us on Facebook for all time.
Despite all of the guilt and the cleaning up and the public shaming, there were talks of this being an annual event. Not the same house or the same method of mischief...but when you only live once, and your friends make you feel like a kid again, why not?
HAPPY NEW YEAR, Y'ALL!
