Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Prissmas Recap

It's been a month since Prissmas. I believe we've all healed enough emotionally from the humiliating 'told-you-so's' to post an account of our annual event.

Lighting the fire was much better planned this year. I'm very suprised. Lady Prisspott gathered all of the guests in a pen well enough away from the intended blaze. The Lord Prisspott was nowhere to be found. Apparently he wasn't feeling well. In hindsight, I don't think it's impossible that Lady Prisspott put something in the Lord's food to keep his disapproving stance away from our use of gasoline as an accelerant.

Wearing BDUs (battle dress uniform - camouflaged outfits) Ivy and Thorny prepared the projectiles (bottle rockets) and the long metal tube, while Hydrangea doused the burnable heap with gasoline.

Acquire the target!
Target Acquired!
Load the projectile!
Projectile Loaded!
It's Lit!
Shove it in!
It's in!
Confirm Target!
Target Confirmed!

Fwoosh! and .... nothing.

Repeat 11 more times - redouse with gasoline (at which point we yelled "Acquire the target!" again just to make Hydrangea nervous - then fired two more times (after Hydrangea was clear) and.....THWOOM!

Arr arr arr! - we make fire - arr arr arr!

Applause and happy dance.

On a side note, we had planned and practiced this lighting ritual in our backyard (next to the firehouse) before actually attempting it. We were a little bit nervous about the safety of this experiment. We also had a firefighter at Prissmas. (We'd invited her, then realized "Oh crap! She's a firefighter - will she rain on our parade?")

By far it was the ugliest Prissmas tree ever. We really outdid ourselves. I do believe it was the biggest bonfire ever too. How very cathartic. We burned lots of stuff. The 'ladies' brought a box of things that MUST be burned. Sort of a letting go type thing. Unrequited love letters, ransom notes, compromising photos and the like. If it can be burned, it never happened.

The two sets of Prisspops were a big hit too. Individually packaged and colorfully labeled they fit the requirements: looks yummy, taste like poo. Don't take my word for it, just look at these satisfied customers.

At the opposite end of the edible spectrum, the dessert burritos we cooked in the bonfire took a feat of courage. Even though the talented Lady Prisspott had welded some very nice platforms on poles, still the fire was too hot to get close enough to insert, flip and retrieve while keeping your eyebrows. Plus there was no temperature control. So you didn't know when it was done. (Mine was still cold in the middle.) Great idea too. It met the Prissmas requirements for food. Looks like poo. Tastes yummy.

I don't know who brought it, I think it may have been the 'ladies,' but there was some truly horrendous Spitting Liquor on hand. I was completely amazed - very much awed - by Cat's spitting ability - boy, could she take a lot in her mouth. Now, how could that be practically applied to other events? I'll have to think on that.
Pro: Quantity.
Con: She spits.

Somewhere in the middle of the bonfire ballet, we sang Prissmas Carols around the fire. Apparently T doesn't like to sing in the key of Chuck. "Too low. Too high." she would complain. Through experimentation and trial and error, I think we finally found the right spot when we let her take control. (I imagine it's similar to being married to her-but I'll keep my fantasies to myself.)

I'll write more if it comes to me, but will also let the Prissmas revelers chime in with comments.


Stuart said...

"looks yummy, tastes like poo"? Darling, you just described most of my ex-boyfriends.


Anonymous said...

Chuckles, can you lick your own eyebrows?


Sorry, not gonna marry you!