We all know that there are a lot of things that don't mix.
- vinegar and baking soda - Explosion, right? I don't know, I'm not a scientist. Nor am I a baker.
- Coca-Cola and Pop Rocks - They say that consuming this mixture will make your stomach erupt from the inside. And you will die. But it's not like they can really test this. Here we have all of these perfectly good suicidals, and they're wasting great experimental opportunities by shooting themselves and jumping off buildings and boring everyone. You wanna kill yourself? Eat some Pop Rocks and finish it off with a swig of cane syrup.
- toothpaste and orange juice - Have you ever drank a cup of fresh OJ after you've brushed your teeth? It's horrible. I actually have a list of things that taste absolutely disgusting after a good Colgate-clean-up, but none of them are as bad as orange juice. (Also stay away from drinking Red Bull and gasoline.)
- milk and apple juice - Have you ever mixed milk and apple juice together and drank it? Probably not. But I have. And I don't recommend it.
- knives and children - I'm running out of ideas here.
- alcohol and technology - Have you ever gotten drunk and gone on facebook? And started commenting on everyone's status that pops up on your news feed? You try to make jokes but are too drunk to fix your typos so it ends up looking like this: "hahajjjja ywah you know." And then the next day you've forgotten all about your drunken newsfeed rampage until you see a bunch of notifications. "Billy So-and-So also commented on his status." And you're sitting there thinking, "Who's Billy So-and-So?" and so you click on his response and see that he wrote back: "....what?" And you quickly glance up and see that you've not only written an entire paragraph, but you've commented twice in a row. And yet all Billy had to say was "...what?" as in, "...what the fuck? Are you out of your mind? I post about the football game and you've written something about zebra incest?" But you quickly click "Home" because there's no way you're going to sit there and read whatever keys you managed to hit with your belligerent phalangees.
Have you ever been beaned? Yeah well neither have I. I didn't even know that beaning was a thing until two nights ago. Urban Dictionary defines it as the following:
beaned: When you start a video chat session expecting to see a partially (or fully) nude female, but you're greeted with a close-up of some dude's scrotum instead. As in, I met this girl on AOL who said she would flash me. When the video chat started, I saw the hairiest balls ever! I can't believe I got beaned!"
There were a few other definitions, but none of them defined my own experience. It all started with a phone call.
"Natasha, where are you?"
"Did you guys make it to my house already? Sorry, I'm almost there! We had to stop and get gas real quick."
"Well get here now, your neighbor wants to talk to you and she seems pissed."
"Talk to me about what?"
"I don't know, just get over here!"
Two minutes later, my boyfriend and I pull up to my house to see two of our friends waiting on my porch, and one angry woman waiting on hers.
How does she know my name?
I approach her yard as she extends her arm toward me and points her finger.
"Is that your green car?"
"No, that's my boyfriend's..."
"Well it wasn't until that green car got here that our shit started getting fucked with."
"That car left, and while it was gone, someone fucked with my truck and my bikes. Now I know it was you, so you better stop fucking with my shit or you're gonna pay."
"I'd appreciate it if we could have a calm conversation about this and not curse at each other."
"YOU FUCKED. WITH MY SHIT."
"You are blindly accusing people without any proof ---"
""YOU FUCKED. WITH MY SHIT."
"Can you describe this fucking with your shit?"
"You listen to me!"
"No, it wasn't us and whatever happened ---"
"No, you listen to ME."
"You have no reason to believe it was us! It was Halloween night, this is a college town, it could have been any drunk kid who walked by."
"If you fuck with my shit again, you're gonna get your ass beat."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's not a threat, it's a promise."
"Right, so that's a threat."
"It's a promise. Fuck with my shit again, and I'm gonna beat your ass."
"I have better things to do than mess with your motorcycles ---"
"GET OFF MY LAWN!"
I look down at my feet. I literally have one toe, the big one, on her grass. I look back up at her. She's in her police uniform. I'm being threatened by a cop, in uniform, who wants my toe off of her blade of grass.
"I'm sorry, am I disturbing your blades of grass?"
"We're done with this conversation."
"You need some rest, ma'am."
"No, YOU need to stop FUCKIN' with my SHIT."
"Go take a nappy nap! You need a little nappy. Have a great night!"
Three or four hours later, after playing board games inside and bitching about our crazy neighbors with my roommates and friends, we step outside to drive to get some beer. And that's when we see it.
"Is that puke?"
We step closer to my roommate's car that is parallel parked in front of our house.
"Ew...someone barfed all over their windshield..."
"Why is it so chunky?"
"Holy shit, look!"
We look over at my other roommate's car - which ALSO has chunky, brown vomit all over it. All over the windshield, all over the passenger window, and all over the top of his convertible.
"Someone puked on one car, and then went and puked on the other?"
"Is it on anyone else's car?"
"No, just my roommates' cars..."
"Hold on a second."
We step closer.
"Dude. That's not puke."
"Then what is it?"
"Dude, those are beans."
We all lean in to the gooey mess.
"Holy shit, those ARE beans!"
"Your roommates got beaned!"
"I guess that's what you'd call it. I mean, they dumped beans all over their car."
"I bet it was my fucking neighbors."
"They did just threaten you not three hours ago."
"She did say she was gonna fuck up my shit...with...beans?"
We immediately go inside and tell my roommate's that they'd been beaned - which was a first for me. They rush outside to clean it off, but were unlucky, for the grease from the beans was wedged in the window, so every time they rolled the window up or down after cleaning it, bean grease would show up once again. They called the cops to report it, but of course, the neighbors denied the whole thing. If I were a cop, I would have asked to see if they had any cans of beans, to compare and contrast the two, but I guess police officers don't do that.
"May I take a look at your beans please?"
Yeah, that'd be a little weird.
Following this night, the War of the Neighbors not only continues, but is giving the world new, creative ways to enjoy revenge.
beaned: To open up cans of beans and pour them on someone's car. An action that typically follows telling this person who were gonna "beat their ass," but instead, you "bean their ass." A cheap way to get revenge. As in, Man, we got no money. But we do got dem beans! Let's bean their ass and give 'em a real beaning!
After committing a beaning, be aware: the beanees will want revenge, as well.