We would go out for pizza on Fridays growing up. My dad would always pick up his straw, tear off one end of the wrapper, twist the other end, and blow the wrapper at one of us. A wrapper-blowing flurry would ensue. One time I recall we were at Pizza Hut. An older couple was siting nearby. My dad shot his straw wrapper and it went clear across the way and stuck in the older woman's white hair. We all sat silently staring, and then burst out laughing. Pretty sure she had no idea and it stayed in her hair while we ate. He would also usually have a Swiss army knife with him. When we would be out somewhere eating and our drink cups had lids, he'd wait until someone was distracted or went to the bathroom. Then he'd take their straw, snip it down to about 2" long, and put it back in the cup lid. When you'd try to drink you'd get only air. He also serially stole and hid forks. And would carefully put those old wooden clothespins on your back, hanging off a loose jacket. I went to school more than once with a fucking clothespin hanging off me. Random hilarious fun. I love my dad. Side-note, today he and my mom celebrate 37 years together.