You'll all be very happy to know that there is no mention in today's post of my awesome neighbours! Can I hear a hooray for small miracles?! Amen. And you're welcome.
Mr. Handsome went away for the weekend, leaving me and the kids alone.all.weekend.long. Yeah. Guess I could end the post right here.
But I won't.
Mr. Handsome gets invited to this "all men's" weekend every spring at his sister's husband's cottage up in the Muskokas, and of course, he goes. Very thoughtless of him, if you ask me. And gender biased. Anyway, it sounds extremely boring because I asked him what exactly all the guys do up there for three days, and he looked at me like I was the stupid one, and said, "Poker." So I said, "You play poker for three days straight?" and he said, "Yeah," as if it was a totally normal and not obscene and very boring thing to do.
And then he added, as an afterthought, "Well, we intersperse it with some x-box," like that was obvious and nothing out of the ordinary.
And to this, I say, Men are weird. And boring.
So, as luck would have it, Mr. Handsome left the kids with me for three.whole.days. Yeah. I think I said that already.
It actually didn't go too badly. They started with the living room, and by Sunday evening, the entire house was spic and span. Awesome.
Dee spent part of Sunday with me trying to once again find the floor to his room, and Em did the bathrooms. Meanwhile, the Beatles played in the background, and all was good with the world.
I also took them to eat out Friday evening and spent way more money than anyone should spend on some overcooked pasta, so-so Caesar salad and lumpy garlic bread. The place seemed to be filled with people celebrating their birthdays, which befuddled me to no end because, really? the food ain't something to write home about, guys.
Then Saturday arrived, and I sat in my stained sweats scratching my loins when there was a knock at the front door, and I shouted for the kids to hide. And then I thought, well, it would be nice to know who it was at the front door, although my instincts were telling me it was someone either selling something we didn't want, or the Jehovah's Witnesses making their monthly pilgrimage to try and save our lives from a most certain hell.
So, I forced Dee to peek out the front window as I cowered behind my laptop, and he said it looked like it was Adonis, my brother. To which I said, "Well, is it or isn't it?" and Dee said he couldn't be sure. I think Dee needs to see his uncle more often.
Anyway, I ended up opening the door, and it was indeed Adonis, who had been biking in the neighbourhood after having dropped his car off at the dealer's to have it checked. So, I invited him in, and then realized he was just using me as a place to warm up. But, what are sisters for if you can't use them, right? Anysmellybrother, I made him a coffee, and placated him for an hour and a bit while he went on and on and on about one thing or another, and I got totally lost when he started discussing the universe and the fifth dimension and the time-space continuum with Dee.
After Adonis left, I thought I'd invite him and his wife, WoodNymph, over to watch the movie Precious on the movie channel, because I thought they needed some cheering up. Turns out it's not such a happy movie. I thought it was a comedy. Stupid reviews.
We decided to order some pizza because I really didn't feel like cooking, so I ordered online, which blew Adonis right out of the water. He was quite perturbed about the whole thing because really, what's wrong with picking up the phone and actually speaking to a real person? Which I can totally understand, and I even agree with, but I couldn't say that to him because then that would mean I was agreeing with my brother, and, well, you know, sisters can't do that.
The ordering took awhile because I kept screwing up the order, and tried to include a coupon they were offering, but it kept not working, so when I finally ordered the damn pizzas, Dee was passed out on the floor, his little ribs showing, and WoodNymph was in the throes of hypoglycemic shock. Sorry guys.
The worst was yet to come, however. I KNOW!
So, the pizza is delivered in timely fashion by this tiny man with a toque, and at first I thought he was a little elf, but his eyes were too mean to belong to an elf (because all elves are good elves), and he hands me the two pizzas, but I immediately put my wily investigative reporting skills to the test and notice that the cheesy bread is missing. I let Mean Elf know, giving him the benefit of the doubt, and he's all, "Well, you did not order da cheesy bread," and I'm all, "Well, I can assure you I did order the cheesy bread," and he gets this angry look on his face like I am screwing up his entire evening of very important pizza deliveries. So, he pulls out his cell phone, and in between heavy sighs and shakes of the head, he calls who I assume is his manager, and then hands the phone to me.
"So, like, you ordered two pizzas WITH ALL THE FREE EXTRAS, right?" the manager says, also sounding a bit put out.
"Yes, AND THE CHEESY BREAD," I add, not willing to give up on this. Meanwhile, I hear WoodNymph in the background, her voice shaky with weakness, reminding me not to let the pizza bastards get away with shirking off their responsibilities, because DAMMIT, we ordered the cheesy bread!!!
So, after a lot of back-and-forthing about cheesy bread and its worthiness, the manager says he will get someone to deliver it FREE OF CHARGE guys! as soon as they can get to it.
Yeah, that's right. I won.
So, Pizza Elf leaves, not even thanking me for the tip I so generously offered him, and then suddenly I figured it all out.
The Al Qaeda is after us. It's obvious. The lack of said cheesy bread was the telling factor. And they've obviously already taken over pizza delivery in our neighbourhood. It's only a matter of time, guys, until they take over pizza delivery OF THE WORLD!
OK, let me explain my logic in this decision.
The fact that they sent a mean-looking, elflike pizza delivery person is the first sign, because HELLO!? He's in costume, obviously. He looked quite shady to me, despite his feeble attempt at covering up with a pizza toque and pizza boxes.
Then, there's the obvious fact that he feigned confusion when I told him we ordered cheesy bread. It was a test, guys. A TEST.
The words "cheesy bread" are actually code for "get them pizza-loving bastards", and when I mentioned the bread, he must have gone a little weak in the knees.
Guys, I am pretty sure their cheesy bread contains microchip bugs.
I left the house to go pick up Em at her friend's house (where she attended a potluck, and ate scads of desserts because all the old people in the building grabbed the lasagna and pasta), and as I was driving up the road, I see the pizza delivery man COMING BACK TO THE HOUSE with the cheesy bread.
Of course, we ate it.
And now we are all sort of unknowing Al Qaeda accomplices, recording our every movement, our every word. If I were you, I'd stay away from me.
But it was all worth it because that cheesy bread was AWESOME.
Update: It's been brought to my attention that this post makes no sense. And, to that, I say, what else is new? Seriously. Like, do I make sense at the BEST of times? Exactly. Why expect miracles, is my motto.
P.S. Any mention of the Al Qaeda in this or any other posts does not in any way, shape or form mean that I am at all related to, or in agreement with, the Al Qaeda's form of terroristic pizza delivery service.