Food, glorious FOOD!

I was about to start writing this blog post Thursday evening when it occurred to me I really wanted Thai food for dinner. Coincidentally, so did TG, DD, and Son.

Okay, not so coincidentally. We all love Thai food.

Then I got to thinking about food, which can be fun. Even though I don't like cooking it, I do like eating it. And writing about it. In fact, I have to watch myself to make sure I don't have my MC eating something every other scene.

"Self," I say, "Ciel can not eat all the time. Sometimes she has to drink adult beverages. Or kiss hot guys. Or get kidnapped by Vikings." 

And then I think, bring on the pastry!

Okay, yeah. It's a struggle.

To the writers among you, how much does food figure in what you write? Not at all? Peripherally? Or do you describe it in loving detail?

To the non-writers, do you enjoy fiction with food-related scenes? 

On a sidenote (since I'm nosy), do you snack while you read? What's your favorite reading snack?

And since I'm rambling here, back to the writers -- do you snack while you write? What's your favorite writing snack?

When I read, I love a good piece of chocolate. And then something salty, like popcorn or chips, to balance out the sweetness. Oh, and then I feel guilty about the junk and nibble on baby carrots or crispy sugar snap peas. After which I feel virtuous enough to go back to the chocolate...

Yeah, it's kind of a vicious cycle. 

When I write, I usually just sip on hot, strong tea between brilliant flashes of genius. (Ha! You buyin' this? Sometimes I crack myself up.)

If I'm revising, I might toss in my favorite "Revision Skittles" (Skittles Crazy Cores), an idea I got from Tiffany Schmidt (one of my fabulous crit partners). Tiffany has had her life overrun by been a tad busy with her twin baby boys these days, and yet she still manages to find time to write. I am in awe of her mad concentration skillz. If she swears by Revision Skittles, who am I to argue?

Oh, man. Now I'm hungry...

Name that Blog Baby!

On Monday I was filling in for a day over at Sierra Godfrey's blog, on account of she's been kind of busy having a baby and all. While she was slacking away from the keyboard, I decided to blog-name her new baby boy for her, because she (like many of us) prefers not to give the real names of family members online. Some nonsense about privacy. You know how it is.

BUT, because I'm rusty at naming babies (thank the good Lord; there are perks to getting older), I figured a contest was in order. See the details HERE. Please go enter. 

I meant now.

Really. I'll wait. *drums fingers on sofa*

What? You say you don't know Sierra? Well, that doesn't matter in the slightest! She's very friendly, when she's not being evil. You'll like her.

Plus...listen, can you keep a secret? Right now she's kind of, um, hormonal (shhh!), if you get my drift. Post Dramatic Birth Syndrome, or something. So I'm thinking getting lots of blog-name suggestions for the little perpetrator of her hormone dilemma might just cheer her up. So, whadaya say?

I'll wait a little longer.

**********PAUSES**********************

You added a suggestion? Hooray! I'm sure it was pure genius. In fact, I'll bet you are going to win. Yes, YOU.

Oh, and don't forget to leave a comment here, too, telling me you entered. Or that you didn't enter, if that was your inclination, because you (wrongly) think you suck at blog-naming babies. But at least leave a good (lame) excuse here to entertain me. You know how I love it when you entertain me.

The "IT" Factor, aka "May I quote you on that?"

I recently watched the entire, sadly single, season of Firefly.

Again.

For the umpteenth time.

*sighs* Love that show. Not sure which idiot decided to cancel it, but, in my not so humble opinion, he or she should burn in "the special hell" Book tells Mal about in one of the episodes.

It's not only Firefly I stalk when I'm in the mood for viewing instead of reading. There are movies I have the same repetitive affection for. Galaxy Quest, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Star Wars: A New Hope (the first one), and The Princess Bride, to name some of them.

What is it about movie or a TV show that makes it special enough to watch over and over again without tiring of it?

Hmm. I'm thinking, aside from a compelling story and great chemistry between the cast members (both extremely important, of course), it may also have something to do with the Quotability Factor.

When I'm watching a show or movie I really love, I almost wiggle with anticipation waiting for the lines I love. I can't possibly list all the good ones, but here are a few off the top of my head:

From Firefly...

River: "Also, I can kill you with my brain."

River: "My food is problematic."

Book: "If you take sexual advantage of her, you're going to burn in a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theater."

...and so, so many more!

Galaxy Quest...

Jason: "Never give up, never surrender."

Alexander: "...by Grabthar's hammer...by the sons of Warvan...you shall be...avenged."

Guy: "You see? I'm just crewman number 7! I'm expendable!"

Brandon: "Oh my God, I knew it! I knew it, I knew it!"

Ferris Bueller's Day Off...

Teacher: "Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?"

Ferris: "Pardon my French, but Cameron is so tight that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks you'd have a diamond."

Ferris: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around every once in a while, you could miss it."

Star Wars...

C3PO: "Let the Wookie win."

Obi-Wan: "These aren't the Droids you're looking for."

Leia: "Aren't you a little short for a storm trooper?"

Luke: "I'm Luke Skywalker -- I'm here to rescue you!"

Darth Vader: "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

And the most quotable movie evah, The Princess Bride...

Vizzini: "Inconceivable!"

Miracle Max: "Have fun storming the castle!"

Wesley: "Sleep well, my friend...and dream of large women."

...and just about every other piece of dialogue from the entire movie. ;)

What does "IT" for you? What keeps you coming back to re-watch a TV show or a movie?

Size doesn't always matter, right? Right??

You know how some days you're reading through your blog roll and you come across an especially long post, and you really love the blogger, and think all of his/her posts are positively brilliant/charming/hilarious, but you're having an especially hectic morning/afternoon/evening/middle-of-night, and just don't have time to give it the attention it deserves?

Yeah, well this isn't one of those posts. ;)

Toodles. Have a great weekend!

What's a stuggling writer to wear?

Most professions have some sort of dress code. Doctors wear white coats. Lawyers wear suits. Strippers wear G-strings. Writers wear...whatever the hell they feel like.

Oh, I know what you're thinking. PJs. What writer could require more? Sitting around in your pajamas all day, clacking away on the keyboard -- every writer's dream.

WARNING: This can get chilly if you sleep in the nude.

Now, I'm not saying I haven't been there and done that.

(The pajamas thing. Not writing in the nude thing. Well, except that one time, when it was really hot and the air conditioner was broken, and I thought I was alone in the house, but... *Ahem* Never mind.)

But the well-outfitted writer needs more than comfy flannel to aid in the pursuit of a career in the literary arts.

For instance:

A nice, tailored Armored Suit -- to protect skin that is never quite thick enough to withstand the early onslaught of rejection. Later, after publication, you can recycle it to wear while reading reviews.

The ever-necessary Patience Panties -- to remind you not to get too ruffled while you're waiting. Because there will be Waiting. Followed by more Waiting. Interspersed with a healthy dose of Anticipating and a dash of Expecting.

Another must, Steel-Toed Boots -- the better to kick your crit partners into gear when they need it:

In that same vein, you better get yourself some Padded Underdrawers -- for when your crit partners are kicking your butt into gear. (May be worn in conjunction with Patience Panties, if both are needed at the same time.)

No wardrobe would be complete without Accessories:

A Muffler -- for those times (like after two or six glasses of wine) it would be better to keep your scathing opinions amazingly astute perceptions about the state of publishing in the world to yourself.

Bulky Mittens -- to keep you from typing that bitter rant about "Author X," the untalented hack who somehow managed to get published AND make a gazillion dollars while your brilliance has thus far gone un- (or under-) appreciated by the masses.

And finally, a Megaphone -- to help you shout out encouragement to your fellow strugglers along the Great Writing Path.

To all my Writer Buds: HANG IN THERE!

Can you think of any wardrobe additions? Please share.

Kitties and Goats and Defrosted Daughters, oh my!

So, DD is visiting. She brought our two grand-kitties with her, since she'll be staying a few weeks.

The cats are confused. They love me (naturally; what creature wouldn't?), but I made the mistake of cuddling with our part-time neighbor cat before they got here. And then the bigger mistake of not changing my clothes afterward. It seems my precious grand-kitties think I've been cheating on them with another cat (which, granted, I have), so they are alternately rubbing up against me and hissing at me. But they are cute, so they are forgiven.

Here's the adorable Valentine, feeling welcome:

And here's her awesome sister, Vera, reaching out to hold hands with DD:

Who wouldn't forgive them? Well, except Part-Time Neighbor Cat, who has been banned from the house for the duration of the grand-kitties' visit:

Awww. Everybody say it with me: Pooooor Miss Kitty!

While Hissy Cats were having a time out in their room*, DD and I went to Wegman's in search of Kosher-for-Passover matzah**. Which -- horrors! -- they were out of. Wegman's, you let me down.

But they did have wine! With goats on it! We'll take it to DD's in-laws' tonight for Passover Seder, because there's a lot of wine-drinking involved in a Passover Seder (is that a great religion or what?), and there's some sort of a goat song involved. So we thought the goat wine would be appropriate.We are nothing if not appropriate. (Oh, all right. We also thought it would be kind of smart-assy, but since DD's in-laws have a great sense of humor, we know they'll appreciate it):

The checker, a young Asian man who looked about twelve, actually carded me. Ha! I haven't been carded since I was 35 or so, which is at least *cough* two years ago.

"What?" says I, confused.

"Your ID," says the checker, embarrassed.

"Are you kidding?" says I.

"I'm sorry. It's the rule," says Checker Boy.

"No problem," says I, digging out driver's license, thinking, are you blind, kid?

I was still giggling on the way out of the store, until DD kindly pointed out that if I were under twenty-one, apparently I'd had a hard life.

Yeah, I know. And yet I didn't leave her at the store. That's motherly love for you.

(DD wants me to mention that she gets her smart-assery from me, so I shouldn't complain.)

Kind of a scattered post today, I know. What can I say? I'm a little distracted.

What has you distracted these days? Something fun, I hope!


*Yes, the cats have their own room here. It was DD's room when she still lived with us, but she now stays in the guest room when she visits, so the cats get hers. Someday, when I stop writing long enough to do a little redecorating, it will be transformed into my writing haven. But it will likely still have a litter box. 

**Yes, DD is Jewish. Though she was nominally raised Episcopalian (I fear we didn't go to church...well, religiously, so to speak), she became interested in Judaism in college, and decided it was the religion for her. Since Episcopalians are, due to their legendary reserve, often referred to as "the frozen chosen," and Jews are considered "God's chosen people," TG and I figure she didn't so much convert as defrost.

(If you're interested in a more complete explanation of the process, you can read about how I became an honorary Jewish mother here.)

Happy Passover!

Friday Fibbery, aka "Liar, liar, pants on fire!"

We've all done it. Bent the truth a bit. Told a little white lie. Fibbed.

Fibbed. Isn't that a great word? It sounds so fun. Lighthearted and happy. Not really like a LIE at all. More like something that should be true. That, in a better world, would be true. "Truth light," with a wink and a nudge built right into it.

Kind of a "you and I both know this isn't precisely factual, but we'll pretend it is because it makes us both feel better" sort of word.

As a writer, I like to think of fibbing as "editing actuality into a more acceptable draft." Doesn't that sound better than "a big, fat lie"?

I don't mean the big issues. Basic honesty is a must if there is to be trust between people. What I'm talking about are those little, relationship-smoothing fibs that are not only accepted, but expected.

There's a subtle, yet meaningful, difference between fibbing and lying. 

FIBS:

"You haven't changed a bit!"

"Mmm. You're the best cook ever!"

"Don't worry if you broke [insert priceless heirloom of your choice]. I never liked it anyway."

"Wow, that pink stripe in your hair makes you look COOL!"

LIES:

"It wasn't me who scratched/dented/released a skunk in your car."

"No, of course I didn't cheat on you with the milkman/mailman/yard boy/pool boy/your mother/your sister/your best friend."

"I didn't shave your cat and feed it Ex-Lax. Tommy did."

You also have your CLASSIC LIES:

"The check's in the mail."

"I love you."

" I won't..." Um, yeah.


You see the difference, don't you? A FIB is told for the benefit of the person you're fibbing to. A LIE is told for your own selfish reasons.

Now, some of you -- the loop-holers among you -- are probably thinking, but it would hurt people to know you scratched their cars or cheated on them. That you're only warping the truth to spare their feelings, so why doesn't it count as a benevolent fib?

Nice try. Sorry, but a fib is only a fib when you're not covering your own ass with it.

There are gray areas in between telling lies and telling fibs, of course.

Say you tell your best friend, "Those jeans look fabulous on you!" when, in fact, they make her rear end look like two Volkswagon Beetles trying to pass each other on a narrow road.

Now, if you're shopping when you "edit" that particular actuality, and she hasn't yet made the purchase (i.e., there's still time to save her from herself), you are lying to her. Bad, bad, bad. Friends don't let friends buy unflattering jeans.

But, if she just showed up in public wearing them, and there is no place for her to change, and you honestly don't want her to feel self-conscious, then it's a fib.

When I'm reading, I can't stand a character who lies. But one who occasionally fibs? Well, I find that rather charming. Something I try to remember when I'm writing, too.

How about y'all? Told any fibs lately? How about any whoppers? Come on, 'fess up! ;)

Wednesday Wisdom, aka Things I Learned the Hard Way

Thought I'd share some pieces of wisdom I've gleaned from life over the years. Things I learned the hard way. My gift to you, so you don't have to acquire the knowledge the way I did.

(The "why" behind each wisdom should be apparent without elaboration.)

1. Never trust the all-you-can-eat sushi bar in a restaurant with an iffy air conditioner.

2. Don't feed bran muffins to raccoons.

3. When the president of the PTA calls, pretend to be somebody else.

4. If you see your toddler running around without a diaper, don't chase him/her barefoot.

5. While two martinis may sometimes not be enough, three are always too many. Corollary: rollerblading after drinking martinis is not a good idea.

6. Don't use the box of baking soda deodorizing the refrigerator for your baking, even if you are out of baking powder.

7. Laundry detergent -- even a little bit -- is not a good substitute for dishwasher detergent.

8. Never try to blow out a lit can of sterno unless you think eyebrows are senseless facial ornaments. (This one is courtesy of TG.)

9. Don't test the automatic garage door stop mechanism with your foot. 

10. If you have the kind of car that locks with a press of the button on the door, make sure doubly sure the key is in your hand before you get out of the car. Corollary: Make sure your toddler is not still in the car seat. Corollary #2: Or that the engine is still running.

11. The right answer is always, without hesitation, "Yes, that looks fantastic!" (Courtesy of my son.)

So, how about y'all? Any wisdom you'd care to add to the list? If you're embarrassed about how you gained your knowledge, just pretend you heard it from a friend. I'll never tell. ;)

Reptiles, Musical Satire, and Word of Mouth

Okay, not real reptiles.

I was referring to The Austin Lounge Lizards, one of my favorite bands. They played the Barns (TG's theater) on Saturday, and since TG knows how much I like them, he wangled me a good seat.

Yup, that's just one of the perks of being married to a guy who regularly works sixteen-hour days seeing that the show always goes on. All that showbiz glamor comes with a lot of sweat.

Since I like The Austin Lounge Lizards, you can safely bet they are:

(A) Musically talented.

(B) Funny.

(C) More than a little irreverent.

They are true masters of satire, taking aim at society, religion, and the government. Oh, and Texas. Yet they somehow manage not to come across as mean spirited.

Sometimes you just have to poke fun at big, serious stuff people like to fight about. Laughter is an excellent buffer.  

Here's a music video of one of my favorites, called "Too Big to Fail," skewering our country's current economic woes:



No, they don't dress in barrels when they perform the song live, alas. But they all wear Hawaiian shirts, which is almost as cool.

Speaking of cool, when I took my seat in the audience, next to the wife of one of the band members, she said, "You must be Linda. I can't wait to read your book!"

Whoa! I about fell out of my chair. 

TG has apparently been talking me up to all the artists who play the Barns, ever since Agent Extraordinaire, Michelle Wolfson, sold my books. The band member's wife recognized me by the pink in my hair. I got the same reaction from one of the band members I ran into during intermission.

It hit home, again, that OTHER PEOPLE, most of them total strangers, are going to be reading my books. As my agency sistah, Tawna Fenske, talks about here, this can be frightening to contemplate.

It's not that you don't know it all along. In theory. As an interesting concept. But every now and then it sinks into your gut...and squeezes tight.

It was weird because I'm always a teensy bit star-stuck to meet the performers (not being musically talented in the least myself, I am in awe of those who are), and here they seemed impressed with me. An extremely odd sensation, let me tell you. Of course, I almost had a panic attack, right there in the middle of all those Austin Lounge Lizard fans handled it with my usual aplomb.

Once I gathered my wits, I decided it was pretty neat. Musicians read! (Something else I also knew in concept. I'd just never talked books with any of them before.) All kinds of people READ! I find this heartening. People reading represents a certain amount of job security (duh) for writers everywhere, which is not a bad thing.

So now TG has big marketing plans for In A Fix. He's going to send copies of it (once there are copies of it) on tour with some of the bands that play the Barns, with instructions to read it (if they want) and pass it along to their fans in other cities. So, at the very least, I know my book will get a tour, whether I get to travel with it or not.

Hmm. Word of mouth, set to music. I like it. :)

Are you sure you're not a 52-year-old man sitting there in your boxers?

If I'd had a personal computer before I met and married TG, I'm not sure the wedding would have happened.

Don't get me wrong--I adore TG way more than my computer (honest, honey!). I'm just not sure I would have been out in the world enough to even meet him. I would have been online, writing away in the cyber world, instead wiggling my bait onstage at Melodrama Theater.

As much as technology brings people together who might never have met otherwise, I have to wonder how much it also keeps people apart.

Online friendships are easy. You connect at your convenience with like-minded people. Unlike in real life, you can hit pause when the other person gets annoying, or when you feel yourself on the verge of becoming annoying yourself. You only have to show the Best o' You to the online world. Frankly, it's a pretty good gig.

Real life relationships are a bit trickier. It's not as easy to disguise your warts.

Having a bad hair day? No hiding behind that convenient avatar in real life. (Trust me. You do not want to know what I look like right now.)

Feeling particularly snarky? In the actual world, you can't edit the bitchiness that comes out of your mouth before you hit "send."

Attacked by The Dumb? No closing that laptop and laying low offline until your usual smarts return. No pretending that "snappy" comeback didn't take you half an hour to perfect.

Which is a real (*ahem* get it?) shame, when you think of it. Wouldn't it be cool if all those protective shields the internet supplies somehow applied in real life, too? 

Like when you oversleep and don't have time to wash your hair, much less iron your clothes. No worries! The world would only see the self-approved version of you that you settled on one morning when you woke up on time and dressed in clothes you had the foresight to iron the night before.

Or when you get drunk at the company party and make a pass at the boss. You could just claim some practical joker "hacked your account." Instant plausible deniability.  Or even delete your identity and reinvent yourself as a whole new persona. TADA! Problem solved.

Alas, that's just a pipe dream. You are what you are in real life, without ready do-overs or much leeway to pretend to be someone you're not.

But there are some advantages to keeping it real. When you make a love connection in the real world, you can at least be certain the person looks (mostly) like what you're seeing, and isn't (like TG used to warn me when I was first getting into online writing communities) really a 52-year-old fat man sitting at his computer in nothing but his boxers, drinking a beer.

I think there's something to be said for that kind of certainty.

What do y'all think? Is the internet more of a barrier or a bridge to good interpersonal relationships?

Age-Defying Boobs and Other Perks

Boy, you can really tell the Baby Boomer generation is getting up there. Still a huge force in the world of commerce, though. Seems like every product out there now is labeled "Age Defying!"

Can somebody please tell me why we're supposed to "defy" age? I mean, sure, getting older has its drawbacks. The extra aches and pains aren't much fun. The wrinkles character lines are no fun. Gravity can be a bitch, too. But even with all that, it still beats the only surefire alternative: dying young.

(I guess. Who really knows? I'm certainly not volunteering to find out.)

If you have to go with "age defying" as a descriptor, though, must you apply it to every frickin' product out there? Lotions and makeup, okay. Makes a certain sense. But bras?

Yes, on my recent shopping trip to update my undergarments, I was confronted with a bra labeled "Age Defying!" Come on! Gravity defying, maybe. But can't we leave age out of my lingerie? I've seen plenty of young women -- teenagers, even -- whose girls could use a boost, so it isn't all about age.

In the interest of full disclosure (heh-heh), yes, I did buy it. But only because it was comfortable. (No underwire.) The fact that it does, indeed, restore a certain perkiness to my profile is, I assure you, strictly incidental.

I feel kind of like I caved to advertising pressure, though. To atone, I will think up reasons...

WHY GETTING OLDER DOESN'T TOTALLY SUCK: 

(Warning: this could be a short list.)

1. One does get smarter with age. (Not that you can always remember the stuff you're smarter about. But since you also get better at making sh*t up, that mostly doesn't matter.)

2. Those "lifetime warranties" on the stuff you purchased when you were younger really start to pay off.

3. The kids are mostly housebroken.

4. Um...okay, people, help me out here...

Or you can just sit back an imagine perkiness of my profile. I'm not saying the girls point straight up or anything, but...never mind. Let's all just focus on the age thing.

And I'd really be interested in learning more ways getting older doesn't suck. Best answer wins an assortment of old reading glasses.

Close-talking waitresses and Happy Endings, aka Take your celebrations where you can get 'em!

Yesterday, according to Google, was the 119th anniversary of the ice cream sundae.

I don't know about you, but I believe in celebrating the little things. Especially when it involves ice cream!

So, TG and I set out to find ourselves ice cream sundaes for lunch. The first place we went to looked like it might be fun: an ice cream parlor, maybe a little past its prime. Still, that could be "quaint," right? The front window display was lined with die-cast model cars, every make imaginable. Very cool...until you looked closely and saw all the tiny dead bugs littering the spaces between the cars.

Uh, no thanks.

We pressed on. Wound up at "Friendly's," a restaurant that truly lived up to its name. Also, since the slogan on their gift cards is "Friendly's, where ice cream makes the meal" we figured we'd have a good shot at finding a sudae there.

Sure, their promise of a "Happy Ending" worried us a bit at first...

...but when we realized it referred to a two-scoop ice cream sundae with choice of toppings, and not our likely demise after ingesting a meal there, we relaxed and settled into the experience.

Our waitress was the sweetest little old lady ever. Bit of a close-talker (you've seen that episode of Seinfeld, haven't you?), but her breath was fresh, so it was okay. Told us all about her regulars, mostly older widows, who apparently come in as much for the company as the food. She even gave one of them her phone number because she looked lonely and might need somebody to talk to after hours. Like I said, sweet. Maybe the tiniest bit creepy, but mostly sweet. 

The important thing is, our sundaes were perfect. I had a classic hot fudge with vanilla ice cream, and TG mixed it up with a scoop of vanilla & a scoop of chocolate beneath his hot fudge. We both, of course, had the whipped cream and cherry. Yum!

Celebration complete.

It's the little things, you know? Sure, that's a cliche, but cliches become cliches for a reason, right?

Have you celebrated anything small or silly lately? Hey, I know! Maybe we should make up a list, for the benefit of those who can't think of anything to celebrate. I'll start it, and you can add to it!

SMALL and/or SILLY THINGS TO CELEBRATE

~Living through Monday

~A good hair day

~A "good" rejection to a query or submission, one that contains enough encouragement that you don't give up

~The first crocuses of spring

~When the dog roaming the neighborhood poops in the annoying neighbor's yard instead of yours

~The boss is on vacation (which, as we all know, is almost as good as being on vacation yourself)

~No cavities!

What else can we add?  And don't forget to celebrate. I recommend ice cream, but anything chocolate will do in a pinch. 

The Elusive (or should I say Illusive?) Pig #3

Pranks.

For some reason, I'm thinking about pranks today.

Oh, yeah. April 1st. The day of the year set aside to make other people look and feel like idiots. What's not to love about a day like that?

As a small child, my favorite April Fool's joke was the classic "You've got a bug crawling up your back!" I'd tell my mom, my dad, my friends...whoever would listen, basically...they had a bugs crawling up their backs, and then collapse in a fit of laughter. It didn't really matter if they fell for it or not -- just telling the fib was the fun part.

It was like having special dispensation to lie.

Being a basically (okay, compulsively) honest person, I'm strangely fascinated with situations where it's deemed socially acceptable to lie.

Hmm. Maybe this is why I'm a fiction writer. We lie for a living.

(One April Fool's gag I don't recommend is telling your husband you're pregnant...after he has a vasectomy. Turns out it's not nearly as funny as you might think at the time. Don't ask me how I know this.)

But back to pranks. My favorite wasn't even an April Fool's Day prank. Nor was it my prank. But I'll share it with you anyway, because I love it so much.

My DD went to a magnet high school for science and technology. As you might imagine, there were lots of very bright students there, and each year, right before graduation, the senior class would strive to out-perform the previous senior classes with their "Senior Prank."

The one I'm thinking of was before DD's time, but lived on in legend. A group of seniors with access to livestock got hold of three pigs. They labeled the pigs "1," "2," and "4," and released them in the halls. After a brief kefuffle, all three pigs were caught and contained.

But -- and this is the part that never fails to make me giggle -- the Principal, teachers, secretaries, and janitors spent the rest of the day tearing the school apart in search of Pig  "3."

Yeah, I know. Mean. But SOOO funny. 

Do you have a prank you look back on fondly? Or are you, perhaps, planning one for today? Please share!