Pizza Pranks #2

As promised...



Tonight, Ophelia (me!) neglected to defrost the chicken need for the night's dinner. (Wait, did I say that was me? heheh.) Consequently, there was no dinner. Therefore, her Mom made an executive decision to order pizza. Can you imagine the reaction?

Bracie, Gabby (who happened to be over) and Ophelia crept to a corner and feverishly began to whisper. Conspiratorial grins snuck over their faces, and Ophelia rubbed her fingers together.



Gabby's eyes gleamed. "Something must be done!"



"Singing!" Bracie hissed.



Ophelia cackled. "We should sing sppspspspspspspsps [insert movie-ish whispers here] and then spspspspspspppsppppspspppstchhhhhh? [etc.]"

"What?" Bracie said, and Ophelia abandoned whispering and switched to giggling.

"We should sing Time to Say Goodbye!!!" Ophelia said.

Bracie countered her. "No! We should sing When You Say You Love Me!"

Gabrielle asked, "But what if it's a pizza delivery girl?

Bracie shot her a withering look. "Then we sing Happy Birthday."

"I am all for singing When You Say You Love Me- as long as we make it obvious that we are singing to the pizza."

When the eagerly anticipated knock came, we crowded around the door. After commencing such details, as... paying... we burst into operatic song. Our voices rose, melodious (well, more or less,) and enthusiastic (to say the least.)
The look on his face? Priceless. As he walked away, rather quickly (for some odd reason), we switched songs.

Time toooooooooo say goooooooodbye!!!!

My current motto:

Procrastinators unite! ...some time later.


I already have several ideas up my sleeve, but does anyone have extra ideas on how to soak a pizza person without harming the pizza? (Hehe! You have got to love my priorities.)

Pizza Pranks #1

Establishing goals is all right if you don't let them deprive you of interesting detours. ~Doug Larson

If you establish pizza as your dinner, you establish it as a goal, yes?

Which is alright. If you don't let it deprive you of interesting detours. Any experienced mischief maker will tell you that pranks are (at the very least) interesting detours.

So cometh a series of posts. I call "101 ways to make life miserable, Oops! I mean interesting, for pizza boys." By writing this series, I hope to provide some excitement in dreary routine. I promise to fill your mind with some delightful ideas which can be practised on your local pizza person.

Let's establish that by pizza boy, I mean the-person-who-shows-up-at-the-door-bearing-Italian-bread-circles-topped-with-tomato-sauce-and-other-such-deliciousness, be they man, woman, boy, or girl.

The inspiration for this fantastic scheme was provided when, two days ago, we ordered out for pizza and the world's Most Boring Pizza Dude in the history of the universe delivered the food.
Bracie, Gabby, and I looked long and hard at each other and decided that something had to change. Break the monotony! Salvage these humans from dullness! Provided a spark of hilarity!

You. Be the change. When I post Pizza Pranks, dare to detour! Hurrah! Huzzah! And all that.

SPLUFF!

SPLUFF! Spluff.

Spluff. It is the melodiac sound of...

A cream pie hitting you in the face!

My friend, Quipster. came up with that particular onomatopoeia. Many thanks. I'm addicted to saying it. If I had more time, I think I would bake a cream pie exclusively for the pleasure of spluffing some hapless soul in the face with it.

Speaking of time, I don't have much of that elusive stuff to spend blogging. So, go read Problematic's awesome blog. She does things like waltz in the rain and ponder the meaning of gummy bears.

Besides, if you read my blog too much longer, you're liable to get hit in the face with a cream pie.

Fish and Dream Jobs.

Isn't it glorious? O! The thrill that fills my heart as the shimmering fish soars heavenward! And then, how it comes gently to earth, landing securely in the hand of a fish-monger!

That is where I am going to work as soon as I am eighteen. Oh Yeah. I just can't wait to put on a pair of lovely orange overalls and conquer the world one fish at a time! But seriously, folks, wouldn't it be grand to work there? Perhaps for just a summer. I'd love it. Also, I want to be a summer forest fire-fighter, like my dad. What's your dream summer job?

I'll be gone for SIX days! Daddy is taking our family to the beach on Monday. I shall attempt to schedule some posts, but the last time I tried that, I messed it all up. Yup, I've got skills.

Serious Randomness.

On a whim, I asked Mom today, what was a Very Random Incident in her life.

After thinking several seconds, she responded,

"Once, at a chocolate festival in Yakima, I won a prize: a purple and green inflatable kayak."

For real. Isn't that random??? Since when did chocolate festivals hand out kayaks? Why purple and green?

I challenge YOU! Gentle readers, if you can come up with a real life incident more random than that, I shall actually try my hand at making an award for you.

TTFN! I think I am going to go look for some chocolate.

Thirteen is a blessed number

Ha!

HA!!!

We can fit thirteen people in one Taco Time booth. We are also very good at convincing waitresses to take pictures for us. My family is on the right, and the H's (pronouced with a distinctive Scottish accent, especially because this picture was taken after the Highland games) are on the left. I am the one in the back with the cheesy grin.

Anywho, can you fit thirteen people in one small booth?

P.S. Bracie is being self concious of the fact that her head is blocking about half of the family. So she says sorry.

Miss Manners

As of late, Bracie and I have been reading Miss Manners, also known as Judith Martin. We came across this brilliant quote:
Dear Miss Manners:
A while ago, a beautiful gal with her mom dropped a doughnut on the floor beside me as I was turning to walk out of a snack shop in a shopping mall. I have been puzzled about the meaning of that-if it was an accident, or if I missed the chance to meet her. How should I respond so that I don't miss the next opportunity like that?
The Response:
Gentle Reader:
If there is a standard flirtation maneuver called the Doughnut Ploy, Miss Manners is blessedly ignorant of it. Frankly, she does not think that was much of an opportunity you missed. A doughnut cannot be scooped up gracefully, like a dropped handkerchief, and presented to the lady with a deep, meaningful look and an ingratiating "Excuse me, but I believe this is yours."

Fish Oils

Fish-oil soft gels are nasty. If you swallow them, they stick in your throat. If they burst in your mouth... it gives me shudders just to contemplate it; you get a mouthful of vile, slimy, fishy, OILY OIL!
However, its magical fishy properties render it a wonderful stimulant for the cerebrum. Or something like that. So it's supposed to make you smarter. That's enough to make me take it, oh, a several times a week.
But it is a thing of wonder to watch Ava and Milo snarf them. They simply bring a new meaning to the word clamor. They hang around the vitamen cuboard, chanting "fish-oil, fish-oil, fish-oil!" If Milo wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, er, crib, we hand him a fish oil, and BINGO, instant smile. Ditto for Ava. Fish-oils also make wonderful bribes,
"Milo, eat your mashed potatos and I'll give you a fish-oil!"
or threats.
"Ava, finish cleaning up those toys, or NO FISH-OIL!"
I can make them perform tricks for a fish-oil: "Roll over, bark, lie down, sit upand beg and I'll give you two a fish-oil." They actually do it!
So those are two little kids building up their brains who will probably rule the world someday with their superior, fish-oil stimulated brains.