PlazaJen: Passion Knit

I completely must have been an imp in another life. Probably also a drunken house elf who spent a lot of time alternating between weeping and shrieking with hysterical laughter in a elfen bi-polar way. All of that aside, I looooove me the prankety-pranks. LOVE THEM. And even worse, don't particularly like them played on me, making me the WORST of all pranksters, the sort who can dish it out but cannot take it. Just like an unruly house elf!

So, right now, I have that high-in-my-chest compression of tickledness, that pressure that makes you feel like the mouth of a baloon stretched flat and taught and all air coming out of you will be at a high braying volume of noise. Because we played a little prank on my boss (always the best person to fuck with, don't you think? Hi! I'm fired!) and it's harmless yet funny.

Kristin & I both got Highly! Scented! candles as gifts at the holidays, and I put mine in our breezeway at home & lit it. Ten minutes later I had it blown out, the lid screwed back on, a permanent grimace etched on my face, what with the old-lady heavy-perfumed dreck saturating the air. Kristin never opened hers, until today, when I dared her to. Then, she & the other member of our department decided to HIDE IT in our boss' office in an obscure corner with the lid off, and we would await the inevitable bitching, "What the hell is that smell, ass clowns?" from over the wall. But! Before that could happen, he came downstairs, and now is having a MEETING in his office with somebody from the Outside World, who must be wondering why our boss smells like a Cloying English Garden.

As long as nobody passes out or has a seizure, it's still funny.