Ice Cream Day and an attempt at payback

Sunday was National Ice Cream Day. So, I decided we would celebrate on the Holiday itself. Every year since I was little, and my Mother was little, we have one day during the summer that you eat nothing but Ice Cream. Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, snacks. The above picture shows exactly what you need to survive the day. Lots of ice cream, ice pops and some tequila. That was for me to survive the sugar high that the kids have all day. Chocolate sauce, Caramel, sprinkles, cherries, cones, you name it and we had it. I usually do it on a week day, but my Husband always misses out, so I decided to do on a day when he could participate. And participate he did. I can only eat so much before I something with substance. I bought some sun chips and spinach dip and then made beef satay with peanut sauce to fill bellies, that had nothing but ice cream in them all day. I shaved the beef, marinated it and skewer it. The measuring cup has the peanut sauce in it. YUM!Moving on. I decide to shave the beef with a clever while it was still frozen, to get perfectly shaved slices. I was to lazy to get out my meat slicer. While I was doing this, everyone else was outside relaxing. And Yes, he picked that spot all by himself. We were cracking up. To him, it looked like a little hammock underneath!
Back to my payback. While on vacation in the Outer Banks a few years ago, I had the scare of a lifetime. We rented a huge house, on the beach with a pool, with 3 other families. We all took turns, as couples cooking dinner. This was our night, and we had finished up, and I was taking the garbage out. It had to go to the street, so here I was walking down this 1/4 mile long driveway, pushing a huge garbage can. In the PITCH black. The house was set so far back from the street, you couldn't see a thing. The next thing I know, someone pokes me in the sides (my MOST ticklish spot) and yells AAHHH. I drop the garbage can, scream bloody murder and turn around to swing my fist into my attacker. Who happened to be my husband. Apparently he tip-toed down the driveway, giggling like a little girl, ready to attack. I had been so scared, I instantly burst into tears, called him every name and curse. Then I started really swinging. I was livid. He knows I scare very easily and this had been his perfect opportunity. Fast forward to this year, yesterday.

Here I am shaving beef, while he lays in the hammock. My mind starting racing as I was doing this. I can't stand the sight of blood. I hit the floor immediately, if I do. So I start with ketchup.....
I slathered it all over my hand and the counter. Then I add Maraschino cherry juice.

I wrap my thumb in a paper towel and watch out the window and wait for him to come in. He starts to come into the house and I run for the back door, quietly telling him I need help, and I don't want to scare the kids. I'm holding onto the counter, like I'm getting close to fainting. He doesn't even look at my thumb and What do I get? "Piss poor attempt babe. You're not pale and I would have found you on the floor. That was really sad. You'll never get me back." WTF???!!! DAMN IT!! I tried I really did. Thankfully he doesn't read this, 'cause now it's on.

Something occurred to me. A neighbor of just found out she's pregnant. (Thankfully, she knows him well enough and will think this is Hysterical.) I'm going to go buy a test, ask her to take it and then have it ready when he gets home from work one day this week. I'm not sure if it will scare him, as much as it will give him a heart attack. Either way, I. WIN.