HOW TO FREAK SOMEONE THE FUCK OUT
I decided to scare an ex-boyfriend of mine and pretend I had gotten him a hamster for his birthday. Yes, once you date Stacey Nightmare, the fear never really stops! Surprising someone with a hamster at say age 8, is totally awesome. That hamster would be promptly named “Cujo” and given the run of your bedroom shag carpet. But to a 34 year old ultra -neurotic, super nervous jew who can’t even commit to a 12 month magazine subscription much less any sort of long tern relationship with a living creature (OMG do I sound bitter?!), a surprise hamster weighs as heavily as a death sentence.

A lot of the success of this prank was dependent on my public persona as CRAZYWOMAN! I knew my ex and his friends would instantly believe that I would be the kind of person that would think it entirely appropriate to gift someone with a living creature. And I know why, it’s because I have three pet parrots.

PARROT OWNERSHIP=FUCKING NUTS
When you have any amount of pet birds, you are automatically classified as insane. People just imagine me tromping around in a gingham housecoat with a flock of screeching, flapping birds nesting in my mass of unkempt hair. They picture me stooping over to tend my community garden plot on Mrs. Pigglewiggle’s farm, and thrusting my birds at anyone who walks by: “Have you met my newest Pretty?!”

OK, maybe it’s a little accurate, but I’m not insane enough to actually spring a pet hamster on someone! But I banked on that perception of me and though it carried the prank through, it also made me feel a pang of sadness, because I saw that my friends really did view me as little more than a well-intentioned retarded person: “You like bunny for present! Bunny soft!”

So anyhoot, last year my exboyfriend gave me this rather extravagant gift (guilt) and also (brag!) but also he played this cute little trick (probably stole that from “Benny and Joon” or something) where I had to open the presents in order. So when I opened the first present it was a playstation game. “I was like “but, I don’t have a playstation!” “Open the other box,” he said. And there one was! It was amazing, as soon as I laid eyes on this very expensive, desirable product, every annoying thing my ex-boyfriend had ever done in the past (and there’s a lot) seemed to vanish away to nothingness! Stacey Nightmare’s love can be bought! Playstation replace pain! Save Over Game! Now when I try to imagine our traumatic relationship, all I can see is the little green prince from Katamari Damacy dancing a spritely jig.

So naturally in light of his generosity, I decided to play an evil trick on him! OMG am I fucking adorable or what? I’m a lil’ stinker!!!!

Anyway, I wrapped up three presents and had him open them in order. The first present was oblong and heavy. “What is this?” My ex-boyfriend asked, excited, probably thinking its weight signified something unusual and cool. It was a long bar of compressed cedar shavings, with a bag of wooden rodent-chews taped to the top. As I expected, he immediately began to wig out.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, no! Did you get me a pet? You got me a pet didn’t you? You better not have fuckin’ gotten me a pet!”

The next present was a small flat package. When the wrapping paper was removed, it proved to contain a book entitled: “The ABC’s Of Hamster Ownership”. My ex-boyfriend's exclamations switched from incredulous to highly agitated and alarmed, never once doubting it was a joke (Crazylady persona in effect). Others in the crowded room beneath the bar heard him flipping out and turned toward us. I now had an audience.

‘I can’t believe it! You got me a hamster! I can’t believe you! How could you do this too me! I can’t take responsibility for another life! My cats will eat it! Did you really get me a hamster?”

I don’t usually play pranks on people so I was giggling like a maniac but that only seemed to add to my credibility.

It was then I produced a small cardboard animal carrier, the kind with holes punched in it and the the words “I’M GOING TO MY NEW HOME” written on top, which I got the day earlier from Petland Discounts. I had taken a superball and wrapped it in toilet paper and put it inside so it would feel like there was a living thing in there. I handed it to him.

“I got you a siberian dwarf hamster! I thought you might like it.” I pretended to be upset that my gift wasn’t well-received. My ex-boyfriend let out a brief shrill scream.

“Oh my god I can’t believe you! Is it in there? I think I see it! Oh my god, what am I going to do!”

“I thought you’d like it.” I pretended to pout. He stared at in me in horror, believing it absolutely. He looked as though he were going to cry. He was actually perspiring. The time had come to end this madness.

With a dramatic flourish, I knocked the animal carrier out of his hand. It sailed across the room, landing at the crowd’s feet. They screamed, then burst into spontaneous applause.

“Your gift is that I didn’t get you a hamster,” I told my relieved ex-boyfriend. “Give me back those cedar shavings though, I need them for my birds.

Being Stacey Nightmare’s ex-boyfriend is awesome.