I’m going to make this short and sweet because I have a headache and I think I was poisoned.
—-THE PHONE CALL—-
Henry received a phone call from a friend on Saturday and for some reason, Chooch and I found this to be HI-larious.
“For some reason,” lol.
Immediately, Chooch and I activated our PEST SWITCH and clung to Henry with our ears pressed against his phone. He kept shrugging us off and eventually was able to get up from the couch (hello it was his fault for starting a phone conversation in the same room as us to begin with) and slowly moved onto the back porch.
I say “slowly” because we were hanging off of him. Finally, he turned around and snapped at us, getting busted by his friend on the other end who thought Henry was yelling at him. The last thing we heard before the porch door slammed in our faces was, “No not you. I’m talking to these two nebby* kids.”
*(Nebby means nosy if you live in Pittsburgh. YAY FOR LEARNING.)
“I bet he’s talking to the manager of Blush,” Chooch said, because we love to speculate that Henry is a regular at this stripclub downtown.
Then I had the brilliant idea to go outside and try to hear the conversation from below the open porch windows, but our fucking mechanic neighbor was drilling in his garage and some broad in a house behind us was screaming at her dogs. RUDE.
We tried to go back inside and act like we were just hanging out in the kitchen near the porch door for no reason, what, I’m just over here super naturally sweeping the kitchen floor like I always do why is this strange, but Henry caught us and started flashing us “I WILL KILL YOU” and “YOU FUCKERS CAN STARVE TONIGHT” glares with his eyes and then flipped us off too, wow, such class.
Chooch puked from laughing so hard.
BUT THEN I HAD THE BEST IDEA EVER.
“Chooch, go ask Blake if we can come in and try to hear through his side of the porch!” I hoarsely whispered. I hung back inside our front door because Blake is kind of an adult now and I wasn’t sure if he would be like, “Grow up, guys” but then dumb Chooch kept tossing glances at me from Blake’s front porch while he was asking, and then Blake poked his head out and looked over and saw me half-hiding, so he was just like, “Oh for god’s sake, come on in.”
Eavesdropping from Blake’s side of the house! We couldn’t really hear anything but baritone muffles. :(
By this point, we had lost interest and then Henry was off the phone and we were like, “What, you were on the phone?”
I don’t know, but something about this gave me Sunday Lock Out Vibes and I couldn’t stop laughing about it when I tried to tell people at work on Monday and they were just like, “Why are you like this.”
—-THE WHITE PIZZA INQUIRY—-
On Sunday, the three of us went to Anthony’s Coal-Fire Pizza to surprise my dad with a birthday lunch. Since we arrived first, we were perusing the menu trying to find a happy-medium for a large pizza the three of us could share. AW, A FAMILY PIZZA.
“Do you like white pizza?” I asked Chooch, a gentle inquiry if you ask me, yet this innocent question made him unhinged, you guys. He just snapped the fuck out on me.
“SERIOUSLY?! NO! NO, I DO NOT LIKE WHITE PIZZA! OH MY GOD, HOW MANY TIMES ARE YOU GOING TO ASK ME THAT?!” he screeched, and I was honestly stunned for a second, but don’t worry, Bitch Mommy came sprinting out on the heels of my initial stunned reaction.
So then the two of us were full-fledged quarreling in the middle of a restaurant and Henry was mouthing pleas at us. I DON’T READ LIPS, BITCH. Somehow though, the subject changed to Henry’s alleged conversation with the manager of Blush the previous day so then we remembered that we were wasting our energy fighting each other when we should have been using it to make fun of Henry. I think Henry was just happy that we weren’t starting kinetic ire-fires anymore because he actually told us that he was kicked out of a strip club in Florida too, not just Texas!
“That one wasn’t my fault though. It was the guys I was with,” he said, while ALMOST-KIND-OF SMILING.
Then my dad and Ryan arrived and luckily Chooch was able to restrain his shitty preteen attitude and we had a very lovely birthday lunch with my dad who I don’t see often enough and that’s totally my fault. Meanwhile, the waitress who brought over our pizza exclaimed out of nowhere how adorable Chooch is (??) and he sat there with this smug “I know” look on his face and Henry was like, “He’s only cute when he’s quiet” and THAT IS THE TRUTH. Then our waiter was all, “WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING?” because Chooch had his DS with him after a year of not caring about it (kids, amirite) and then they bonded over Pokemon and all I could think was, “BUT WHAT ABOUT ME?! I’M HERE TOO!”
But I got to tell my dad and Ryan about our trip to Korea so that made up for it not getting any attention from the waitstaff.
Anyway the whole point of this is that I was obsessing over the whole white pizza fiasco thing because if there is one thing you should know about me, it’s that I will latch on to the dumbest thing you tell me, whether it’s something you hate (don’t tell me you hate clowns, let’s put it that way) or some embarrassing moment you had that I witnessed — I will hold these things close to my chest and you’ll never know when I’ll throw it back in your face in the form of a greeting card or a homemade t-shirt.
Or a painting, like this one that I made for Barb which features her least favorite actor, Bill Paxton.
Naturally, I started trolling Chooch as soon as we got home. The first thing I did was run into his room and leave him a white pizza message on his whiteboard. (And please, don’t call CPS on me for the other message. I don’t even own a belt.)
And then it happened, my giddy obsession grew strong enough to push me out of painting retirement long enough to make him this wooden plaque, which he is less than pleased about but I think he secretly is craving white pizza now.
I think his next birthday cake should be a white pizza.
Anyway, I haven’t felt this inspired since HAM SANDWICH AF, when I made a commemorative painting:
OK, now I have to go lay down. I’ve had a headache all day and then it turns out Henry does too and we’ve since determined that it’s possibly from when I sprayed Chooch’s white pizza plaque with varnish in a non-ventilated area. It was nice knowing you, Internet friends.