Our oldest girl finally turns SEVENTEEN.
Wow, that sounds... old. You're now officially old in my book, Vman.
Seventeen is considered still a bloomin youngin in the life spectrum but I can't help but wonder, what have you (generally, you) been doing all these years?!
That question is left unanswered, roaming around my brain, guilting me into trying to "find a purpose in my life". And somehow this leads me to food.
Having not properly planned out the night, we attempt to find restaurants on a busy Friday night and without doubt, fail. But we don't give up; we were starving, and we manage to squeeze our butts into a small table at Boston Pizza.
After our nice and hectic dinner, we head to my house for some DQ icecream cake (this seems to be the traditional DAVID cake) and over to Vanessa's house to spend the night. We had prepared drinks to mix and hearts to go crazy but when we get to the house, we are seriously beat and with "permission", go straight to bed.

That woulda seriously sucked if that was the end to her seventeenth. However, we never disappoint!
Improvisation is a huge part of our lives, and the next morning, thankfully, I wake up super early; early enough to take a shower AND plan out a surprise. (WOW!) I wake up Isabel the fat and lazy, and we sneak uptairs, only to be stopped by... COCO...
Coco the beagle that broke my earphones, that ripped my tights, that takes advantage of my size and jumps and barks at the sight of anything. It is only a matter of careless noise and movement that Coco, who is at the time staring at us from the couch, would wake the whole family. Not knowing what to do, we dumbly just stand there.
Then, we decide to take a risk.
We open the gate and as shaken and nervous as we are, swiftly walk into the kitchen.
We prepare ourselves for an outburst of noise, but nothing comes.
Coco had ignored us... Coco had ignored us!!!!
Having overcome something GREAT, with a feeling of triumph, we rummage through the kitchen, looking for ingredients.
Perfect. We find eggs, opening up a wide range of opportunities.
It is easy after that; we make scrambled eggs, french toast, and KD.

It is sleeping silent when we tiptoe downstairs with the plates of breakfast in hand.
We turn on the lights with shouts of "SURPRISE!" on the sleeping girls, only to be welcomed with shouts of "SHUT UP"s, "F*** YOU"s and "GTFO"s.
We take that much too naturally, knowing that I, personally, very much deserve it. Too many times in the past have I, being a morning person and having a pure evil spirit, done evil things (and there's nothing more evil than waking up a soundly sleeping person).
Giddy with the warm welcome, we bring in the breakfast, and of course, the girls are feeling shocked and guilty, as our guilt from bad birthday planning slowly replenishes (hehehe...).