Every year on the Saturday before Thanksgiving (tomorrow) the guys in family go on a hunting trip to Vermont to shoot some deer in the face and cap off the day with a game dinner hosted by some random local church in that town. The menu usually includes bear, bison, venison, beaver, rabbit, pheasant, moose, wild boar, and some random specialty like alligator or emu. And every year I snap a photo of my plate of food and send it to PETA describing what Im eating. Responses have ranged from nothing to a super angry reply. I love it. Focus: What little things do you do to fuck with people?
As mentioned in the Drunk thread, my daughter has two tattoos she never told me about. So I am saying things to her like, "Tattoos that are quotes are stupid", "Tattoos are such a waste of money", etc. It helps that my other daughter's friend got a tattoo, so she brought up the subject which makes me look completely innocent. I also like to secretly film my kids while I ask them stupid questions to get their reactions and then post it to my Snapchat. That'll teach them that I'm not cool enough to follow. I laugh and laugh.
Go get a custom temporary tattoo that looks just like hers. Post a picture of your "new ink" on facebook or something for her to find. Focus: My wife and I work together, so we're around each other 24/7. There is no escape. The good part of this is that we never have any major arguments because we always have time to communicate. The bad part about this is that we annoy the shit out of each other with little things constantly. Well, she's OCD. Not like in a funny way, like in an extremely annoying way where she starts moving my shit around because it "doesn't look right" and I can't find it when I need it. Everything has its place, according to her, and it bugs the absolute shit out of her if something is even slightly off. Which in turn bugs the shit out of me. So over the last several weeks, every few days I go into her office once she leaves and move one little thing around. Not something obvious she'd notice, but just enough change to where something seems "off." Like turning her pens around in the drawer. Reversing the arm rests on her chair. Switching two picture frames on the wall. Spraying WD/40 on two of her chair's wheels so the others seem to not roll as well by comparison. Switching one of the overhead "warm white" bulbs with a "cool white" bulb. She's growing increasingly concerned each day, I can see it in her face and body language. In unrelated news, I may be single soon.
Are you sure that YOU aren't the one with OCD? Anyway, one of my first jobs when I got out of high school was working the drive-through at Wendy's. Sometimes people would make fun of my voice/speech style over the intercom, and as a result, I would fuck up their order. You don't want onions on your burger? Well guess what, shithead, you're getting extra, extra onions. You want a diet coke? Fuck, you, you're getting Dr. Pepper. You want extra pickles? You're not getting any pickles. I got a pickle you can suck on, right here... Never, not once, did a customer come back to complain. Also, for the record, I never spit in a customer's food; I just made sure that they didn't get what they ordered.
Kind of like Dixie, I used to work at a restaurant. I was a cook and we had a banquet room folks could rent out. One day, for some reason, we rented it out to a bunch of white supremacist. Those stupid fuckers were all over north Idaho at the time and annoyed the shit out of me. At that time in my life I was probably hungover when I showed up for work, and then I discovered I had a banquet of 50 people to feed off the menu. That alone would piss me off, but when I learned who the group was...fuck them. We had recently gotten a case of hot peppers. To be used as a garnish only. I love hot peppers, and trust me these damned things would light you up. Every single order was heavily dosed with those peppers diced up. My little blow for freedom.
This thread is reminding me that I do not have a normal relationship. My wife and I also love spicy things. However, spicy food when you expect something else is fucking disgusting. We've been in the current house for six years. For six fucking years she has managed to keep a container of cayenne pepper (probably now expired) hidden from me. Pulls it out every few months and fucks with something I'm really looking forward to consuming. Off the top of my head, she's put it it or on a bowl of spaghetti, beer on many occasions, red wine, egg nog (mixed in the nutmeg), strawberry cheesecake, bbq ribs, a bottle of nyquil, and I'm probably forgetting a few things. She's also put salt in a bag of sour patch kids. One time I tried to get her back by putting ghost pepper sauce on my lips, coming up behind her while she was watching tv on the couch and kissing her from behind all romantically. Yeah, the sauce got in her mouth, but it also got into my nose and eyes, effectively causing me to OC spray myself.
For something with legitimate OCD, it's that or worse. It would be somewhat similar to firing guns outside the window of a WW2 vet with PTSD, but in a subtler more long drawn out way somehow. Focus: People who get wildly angry for no reason, I like to just look at them. Not argue, just calmly watch them while they're yelling about whatever it is. Drives them nuts.
When we get busy at the bar, we switch to those white plastic cups so shit does not break, if a customer annoys me I fill their drink all the way to the very top of the glass so when they pick it up it spills on them.