Okay, so...sometimes when I'm really, really angry about how duped I was, I remember some of the little tricks I played on people there...I'll tell you my favorite, but only if I get to hear from the rest of you.

Once, the ward I was in had a chili cook-off. This was before I left, but I had already become quite de-converted. I hadn't gone so far as to actually drink coffee or anything (gasp!), but I had begun to get pretty subversive.

So when I made my chili, instead of using water to thin the mixture like the recipe called for, I used Budweiser. Yeah. The beer kind.

The men totally LOVED my chili and raved, wondering what I had done to make it taste so magically delicious.

I won first prize in that contest, and was graciously awarded a handful of kitchen towels and other house-wifely incidentals. I smiled sweetly when I accepted them, and have internally gloated ever since.

One night when I was 14 (in the early 70’s), the MIA was having a dance. I and 2 other friends decided to have some fun by turning off the main power switch to the church building. We drew straws to see who would be the “Son of Perdition” to plunge the entire MIA into outer darkness. The straws were pulled and it fell upon me to perform this transgression.

The main power switch was located in a panel on the stage so we snuck back there during the dance to get access. The switch was located in a panel on one side of the stage and there was a window on the opposite side of the stage.

In order to buy myself time to flip the switch and be able to get to the window and jump out, I piled up several metal folding chairs in the stair well that accessed the side of the stage where the electrical panels were. My friends, by now, had quietly slipped out the window and headed to our pre-arranged meeting site outside.

With the chairs in place and the window open, I quietly opened the panel housing the main switch. I decided to flip the switch in the middle of a song hoping the music would drown out the sound of the switch clicking off. The moment of truth was now upon me. So with a great effort I pushed on the lever with a mighty snap. Thick darkness quickly engulfed the whole building. Girls began to scream and the music on the record player slowly ground to a halt.

As I began to run across the stage to the open window, I could hear the adult leaders scrambling up the stairs well stumbling across the strategically placed metal folding chairs and themselves in the darkness. I never knew so many colorful metaphors could be uttered by our priesthood leadership as they struggled through the tangling and collapsing folding chairs to reach the switch and to apprehend the fiend who would defile their sacred MIA dance. And no, I did not utter any Masonic phrases as I dove out the window.

Once I was outside, I and my two friends met at our pre-arranged spot to gaze upon the now dark, great and spacious building before us. Oh, how great was our joy and loud laughter at this marvelous work and a wonder we performed. We almost passed out not being able to breathe due to our laughter.

Before the lights were restored, we snuck back in and split up so when the lights were finally restored, we looked as though we were there all the time. I strategically placed myself at the punch bowl trying to keep a look on my face of bewilderment like everyone else to avoid suspicion. My two friends did likewise at different places in the cultural hall.

To this day, no one knows who the “Sons of Perdition” were that cast the entire MIA into outer darkness on that memorable Tuesday night.

Flash...I wish this site were like Facebook and had a "like" button. This totally MMD!

in testimonies, answering questions, or in whatever dump mormon expectation everyone else went along with. Had I stayed in long enough to go to the temple, I would have been the one to walk out when they made that false offer as part of the ritual. Or more likely I would have refused to get naked for the oil/water feel up.

I could be the most stubborn kid in the room if pushed beyond my limits.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/30/2011 04:35PM by Cheryl.

Noticed that my neighbors daughter and her boyfriend always snuck out late at night to a small storage barn out back. After watching several times and getting the timeing down,,went to check it out. On a shelf in and empty box was a box of condoms and some lube. I went back several days later and punched needle holes in the condoms. Never did know how it worked out,,left the town shortly after.

agreed..... looks like they were trying to be responsible by using birth control and you decide to sabotage it. Were you jealous that someone else was scoring and you weren't?

I don't think you should be proud of that at all - it was not funny.

I used to volunteer to take my famous stuffed mushrooms to any activity - little did they know they are cooked in wine.

Unworthy, that wasn't a trick it was a cruel vile act of a damnable Mormon. I hope you are a better person now. If not, try Mormon.org.

I'm sorry but that's just plain nasty, punching holes in condoms! I think this thread is about fun tricks, NOT mean and potentially evil actions that could have had consequences for years to come!

Yeah, I said YEARS TO COME!

Didja ever think of that while you were happily poking holes with your needle, going heh-heh-heh like Butthead- or was it Beavis? Probably not.

Reggie
The Growling StalkerDog™

They should make you the godfather of whatever offspring sprung forth as a result of your machinations! ;)

I did the refreshments for ward get together. I had punch and cake. The punch had tea in it, the cake had coffee in it. Everyone seemed happier and more lighthearted than usual. I don't know if anyone caught on, nobody said anything.

I had my own private laugh whenever someone would get up and say coffee and tea had never passed their lips.

Whenever I stay at a Marriott hotel, I like to tear out the page that has Moroni 10:3-5 from the nightstand Book of Mormon. I picture some Mormon staying there after me getting all bent out of shape about it. I'm easily amused.

I guess it would be not telling my TBM ex-husband that my dad's chocolate mousse he made for my family's Christmas Eve dinner had coffee and brandy in it. That chocolate mousse is still a family favorite, and something he still makes for Christmas Eve.

DH and I moved to a new house in the same town. We deliberately didn't tell his parents because we wanted them to find out when they visited 3 months later. We had already sold then some BS story about why our phone number had changed, yet they surprisingly didn't suspect a thing. We got the new owners (friends of ours) in on the trick. I told my in-laws to call me on my cell when they were getting close (telling them I had a quick errand to do), and then I parked around the corner to watch it all go down. They were so confused when the new owner answered the door. MIL was all embarrassed and started telling FIL he must have gotten the wrong house, and FIL was insisting it has to be the right house cuz he recognized the curtains. New owner let them go on like that for a few minutes before telling them the truth.

A close second would be the time we secretly drove 7 hours to visit the in-laws, hid our then 3 year-old son in an oversized, addressed shipping box, taped it shut, put it on their doorstep, rang the bell, and hid around the corner. BIL carried the box in and opened it (we told DS to stay at the bottom in case they used a knife). We could hear them scream when DS popped out. Total comedy.



Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 12/31/2011 11:18AM by nowI'mfound.

In my late teens, I made meatballs for the family. After dinner, I asked my brother if he noticed the flakes of parsley in the meatballs...then told him "That wasn't parsley." It wasn't enough to have much effect, if any at all...it was the principle that mattered.

and gave me the key to the building while everybody was at the temple.

My job was to get things started, just get the chafing dishes going....that type of thing.

I decided to rub one off in the bishops seat.

Gross, I know. And YES I did wash my hands!!!!!!

GDI, I was too much of a goodie-two-shoe for my own good. All my pranks were lame, though I did convince a new district leader in my mission that he had a major nonexistent statistical report to turn in. I understand he was up all night working on it.

Late 60s, our ward house was one of those brown brick buildings built in the teens with a number of steps to go through the front door. Between Priesthood meeting and Sunday School, back when they had opening exercises instead of sacrament meeting, me and several other good young deacons procured a VW Bug from the parking lot, carried it up the stairs and into the chapel We parked it right in front of the podium.

We managed to do it unseen, but when we were all giggling sitting on the front pew waiting to pass the sacrament, the bishop called us into his office to chastise us.

Jump ahead a decade and I was living in SLC for a while. Some missionaries came knocking on the door so I invited them in. I offered them a rootbear float and they eagerly said yes. Only thing my root bear float consisted of Coke, Rum, Kahlua and some ice cream. They didnt seem to catch on, it tastes just like a RB Float. I am sure they had a vision or two that evening after they left.

He was solving some engineering problem for a factory (Mormon owned, interestingly enough) that made and flash froze shoestring french fries. Well he and his crew got a little buzzed one night and decided to play a prank on the owner by taking his car (and I THINK he said it was a VW) and placing it on one of the conveyor belts. My uncle decided after this prank that Mormons don't have much of a sense of humor. :)

Every week my 2 friends and I were always asked to bring cookies or donuts with drinks to the weekly firesides as no one else would pony up any goodies. As teenagers, the price of all these treats took a toll on our meager budgets so we decided to put an end to these relentless requests to supply refreshments once and for all.

In preparation for that night’s fireside, we bought a box of medium sized Milk Bone Dog treats, a can of Hershey chocolate syrup, two bottles of Tonic water, and two bottles of Ginger Ale.

While drinking the real Ginger Ale, we dipped 2 dozen or so Milk Bones into the Hershey chocolate sauce and placed them on a cookie sheet in the freezer to give a hard chocolate coating to the dog biscuits. After creating our chocolate “cookies”, we dyed the tonic water yellow and poured it back into the now empty Ginger Ale bottles and resealed the tops. Our “refreshments” were now ready for that evening’s fireside.

The fireside was your typical Mormon youth fireside but as the fireside came to a close, we knew that whoever was asked to give the closing prayer would bless the refreshments. Like clockwork, the “refreshments” were blessed with the worn out traditional phrase “…to strengthen our bodies and do us the good we need…”

I have never had to stifle a laugh so hard in my life. I thought my teeth would shatter from the pressure especially as I opened my eyes only to meet my two friend’s eyes and watching them go through the same torture of burying a laugh as I was going through.

At long last, the prayer was over and we stood up and walk over to the kitchen. I grabbed the treats and my friends grabbed the altered “Ginger Ale” and we spread them out for all to enjoy. I could not take it anymore so I stuck my head into a broom closet to try and compose myself without anyone asking why I had such a smirk on my face.

The three of us watched from a short distance as people begin to bite down on our special “cookies” and I remember one of the boys biting down hard producing a loud crack as the Milk Bone biscuit snapped in his mouth. With a loud voice, and with the Bishop standing behind him, he said “What the fuck are these?” The facial expression on the Bishop was priceless.

That remark was the last straw for my two friends and I. We could not hold in or stifle the laughing anymore so we snuck out the back door to the car. Once in the car, we broke out in such laughter I thought we would all pass out. We laughed so hard and so long that we almost got into a car wreck on the way home.

We did learn that all our special “cookies” were eaten. This was a good thing as they were blessed. In fact, we did notice later on in the week, that those who partook of the goodies, their hair looked a bit more shiny than before and that their teeth were free from tarter.

I was not the one who played the joke, but the anthropology department at a certain major University I know of, has a room full of human heads in formaldehyde filled jars. This campus's police department has a habbit of taking brand new rookie cops, and having their trainer explain that the professor who runs the store room is this really creapy person who does not let anyone go into his private storage room. They then lie and tell the rookie cop that his field of study is mechanical engineering, since the building is shared with that department. They then arrange with the dispatcher to get a welfare check call, involving them searching said room.

at the time i thought it was funny. now i am a little ashamed of myself.

i was working in a deli helping to put myself thru college and there were many Muslims who were in college that came into the deli. these guys were rude in the extreme to many of the girls on campus, me included.

when one of them came into the deli they usually would order the BBQ sausage, and they always stressed that it be beef.

when it was one of the guys that had been rude to me or my friends---------i gave them the pork BBQ sausage. seems they could not taste the difference.

Why feel ashamed. You said you only did it to the jerks, and pork is only unclean in their minds, unlike say spit, hair, or any number of other body fluid.

People who use their religion as an excuse to treat other people poorly, rather it be Muslim, Mormon, Jew, Christian, or Hindu, deserve to get one pulled over on them once in a while. It's just as funny as feeding coffee beens and rum cake to the Mormons.

That sounds like a good recipe. Wonder what it would be like with Guinness?

It seems that Mormonism really does infantalise its members.

But you know the sad thing? Those who never get out will always be, to a certain extent, infantile.

Other then popping holes into condoms or steeling a car, these were all good clean fun. Sometimes you have to be a little infentile in order to have a little fun.

Forming a secret band of exmos like unto Gaddianton Robbers, yea, even numbering two hundred men and women, we pulled off the mother of all practical jokes. One could even say we got our "Mo-joke on!"

Twas April General Conference when the two hundred apostates mighty and strong met at a SLC Starbucks to plot out prank.

One hundred of us drove out to the Great Salt Lake and the Salt Lake County Landfill and captured 100 seagulls.

The other hundred exmos spread out to all known pet stores along the Wasatch Front and purchased all available crickets (crickets are sold as live pet food for a variety of reptiles and other critters)

Prior to this, many exmos who were still on good terms with TBM's obtained enough tickets for all two hundred of us to enter the Conference Center.

The men wore over coats and the women wore coats and long Mo-dresses.

One of us exmos happened to work at the Hogle Zoo as veterinarian and supplied enough sedative medication to calm the 100 captured seagulls to the point they could be bundled and sequestered inside the over coats without raising suspicion.

The other 100 exmos each packaged up two pounds of live crickets tightly to keep them from chirping and stowed them away in their coates and dresses.

We arrived at Conference in a scattered and random order to ensure seating throughout the building.

The cue to clandestinely release the crickets was when whoever was conducting announced that Boyd Packer would address the congregation. The cue to release the seagulls was when Boyd Packer had commenced his talk and made his first audible clearing of the throat or similar curmudgeon like croak.

Well, as flawlessly as any Tom Cruise - Mission Impossible ever effected, our plan unfolded.

As the thousands of cricket began to crawl and jump around the faithful sisters freaked out, began standing up in their seats and murmuring loudly, yeah their murmuring became exceedingly loud and commotion became great throughout the great and spacious building.

And it came to pass that one of the First Presidency awakened from their stupor and summoned security. Just then Elder Packer cleared his throat in his typical guttural fashion.

The seagulls who had awakened from their slumber with ravenous appetites were released and filled the great and spacious building with their swoops, shrieks and squawks. After a few moments of disorientation the seagulls obtained their spiritual bearings and began to dive bomb for crickets.

Now half-way through his talk about sexual perversions rampant among Deacons Quorums in Zion, even Packer noticed the evil spirit of confusion, rantings, ravings and riotous behavior of the faithful as they clamored for the exits and doors to escape the infestation, smack dab in the middle of his holy message.

With the weeping and whaling and smashing of seats at a fever pitch, President Monson stood at the pulpit to restore order with an attempt at humor.

"Remember Spencer Kimball's 'Don't shoot the little birdies' speech over in the old tabernacle years ago? Well that no longer applies. Brethren, go home and get your shotguns. The only way to rid ourselves of these seagulls is to blast them away after they've eaten all the crickets. And Boyd, keep on talking while we clean up this mess, no one listens to you anymore anyway!"

With TV cameras close up on Monson a large seagull just happened to disgorge itself right on top of Monson's head. This surprised Monson so much that his ears began to twitch up and down uncontrollably.

We exmos exited the building along with the faithful with glee on our faces after having pulled off the real miracle of the seagulls and crickets. (Now if only this were not just a fantasy!)

Best I ever dared to do was to eat ice cream in the stake center kitchen (excuse me...Preparation Room, as the sign says cooking is not allowed).

Me and 3 pre-mission friends arranged chairs in a circle with the ice cream carton circling among us, with our laps covered by the countertop, keeping the ice cream out of view of any intruders.

When someone finally opened the kitchen door, we all bowed our heads and closed our eyes on cue (as planned) and heard the intruder slowly close the door and leave under the assumption that we were praying!

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

My first husband was NOT an "alpha" male priesthood holder.
So he got placed with a lot of douche bags on his missions who were his 'Senior" companions.

In one place they lived he would take out his passive aggression frustrations on his companion by running hot and/or cold water at the kitchen sink while his companion showered. He said he learned a lot of colorful phrases that would make old ladies faint in church!

I bet his senior companion hated that trailer's shower and never knew "what hit 'em"!

I would add names to the list where the visitors sign in like Brigham Young or Ronald Reagan or Donald Duck...

I got the most satisfaction out of changing the large marquis sign at the entrance to BYU. It read "Enter to learn. Go forth to serve."

We thought a more accurate description of our BYU experience was: "Enter to serve. Go forth to learn."

The sign stayed that way all summer, and through fall homecoming.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 01/01/2012 08:28PM by forestpal.

It was April Fools day and she and two of her friends (all were 13) decided to get positive pregnancy tests (don't ask me where that came from) and leave them for their parents to find. Well, she was the only one of the three who had the gumption to go through with it.

She left the test in a box with a note that said: "Don't open until I'm at school."

Well, my stepmother had the vapors and called the priest of their church (they're Catholic, which is a laugh because this is my dad's third marriage so technically he's an adulterer to them). Then she called my dad. Then they all got together to discuss the matter. Then (it was after 3 pm by then) they tracked down my sister at her tennis lesson. (Did I mention that my baby sister got the awesomest perks in life?)

My sister saw them coming and said: "Now, before you say anything, remember what day it is."

I think it was only the fact that she is her mother's only child -- actually something of a miracle child since they'd given up hope of actually having a child and my dad had gotten a vasectomy -- that saved her life that day.

My brother and I (and both of us have children older than she is, just to give you and idea of the age gap) still laugh our heads off over that one.

On my mission we would scrunch up Docalax into a powder and put it into the most annoying Elder's milk carton.

Many decades ago, pre caller ID, and outside the corridor....

Early morning seminary was interupted by a knock at the door, as someone, had ordered a truckload of mixed concrete.

The cement company had questioned over the phone whether we had enough people to screet the concrete, and that was assured as credit was extended to the 'bishop'

Never heard anything else about it, and I assumed the Baptists were blamed behind closed doors.