STORY TIME

Yes, I think it is time for a fun little story that has been told many a times to those who visit the family. As many of you may know, my father is quite a character. And like my mother who is unable to place an order at Kentucky Fried Chicken, aka KFC, because she doesn´t understand ebonics and ebonics does not understand the Icelandic accent of a red headed lady, my father also experiences some difficulties while ordering ice-cream at the local Dairy Queen (ice-cream shop). One day, it was probably hot and ideal ice-cream weather, the family (excluding me) went to Dairy Queen. The family members place their orders, knowing my brother he gets a Blizzard, my mother probably vanilla ice-cream in a cone. My father, not quite sure what he wants asks the cashier:

"Umm... what´s that ice-cream, the sundae, you know, with the hot fudge?"

"Umm.. A hot fudge sundae sir?" (a confused face is cast by the cashier)

"Yes, yes, a hot fudge sundae. I´m going to have one of those." (very happy to know the name of his favourite dessert)

"What size sir?"

"A HOOOOOOTTTTTT FUUUUUDDDGGGGGEEEEE SSSSSUUUUNNNNDDDDAAAAEEEEE....." (said very slow, anunciated, like he was talking to a mentally retarded person... hmmm....)

For some reason, just because my mother has experienced some difficuly in ordering at fast-food restaurants, my father wanted to make EXTRA sure that the cashier knew exactly what he was ordering. Whether he thought the cashier was deaf, slow or dear God I don´t know what, he wanted to make sure that he would not experience the same discomfort of not getting his message across, like my mother when she orders corn bread, mashed potatoes and gravy at the local KFC. Good job dad. You are the fast-food-restaurant-ordering-pro.

Well, that´s it for tonight/today. I love you dad :D

the favouritest daughter