I'm over here...hiding under this rock. Don't tell anyone I'm here, because I have a shameful secret to confess. I'm afraid to tell you, because you may not be able to be my friend anymore. After all, people might associate you with me, and the tabloids will latch onto it, and the next thing you know you'll have to cancel your plans to run for president in O-Twelve.
This information absolutely cannot leave this blog. No linking to this on your site. No stopping me on the streets and saying, "I read your sinful post" in earshot of other humans. And by all means NO telling my mom; her heart's not as strong as it once was. She's still coping with the fact that her son SELLS PLASMA.
So this is just between you, me and my eye-rolling Catholic priest.
I played Bingo on Friday night.
I know. You don't believe me, but it's true.
Our girls' elementary school had a Bingo fund-raiser. They had different sponsors who put up the prize money for each of the games (if I understood correctly), so that 100% of our entry fees went straight to the school PTO. It wasn't gambling, you see. It was donating to this wonderful organization.
Then the worst possible thing happened.
I WON the very first game. From that moment on, Bingo dauber ink was coursing through my veins so thickly you could see the subdermal lump sliding up my arm on it's way to cause a pulmonary embolism. (Yes, we watch "ER." Can you tell?)
I couldn't get enough; I was playing six cards at a time, sweating and cursing at old ladies who were calling "Bingo" long before it was humanly possible. I now know all about "four corners," "double postage," "B&O" and "pig in a blanket."
By the end of the night, I was even able to say "Are you down yet?" and sound like I knew what I was talking about. (I believe that being "down" means you're one number away from winning. For examply, you're just waiting for B8 to be called next so you can jump up and down and shout "IN YOUR FACE" to Ethel Fitzenstein who has not been at all humored by the last couple times you yelled "Bingo" prematurely.)
It's like a drug, I'm telling you. I can't wait for my next fix. I even suggested to Cindy that for our anniversary, if we end up going out of town, we can look for a Bingo game there and not have to worry about being seen by anyone we know.
Now that I've been so vulnerable about my addiction, please tell me I'm not the only one who's looking forward to spending my Tuesday nights at the VFW.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Posted by Scott at 6:35 PM