Posted October 12, 2009on:
I am in pain.
I feel as if I’ve been put through a grueling crunch session.
As ‘exercise’ is not a word found in The Viv’s lexicon, the pain in my gut could come only from laughter.
I love to laugh, but even I have to say ‘uncle’ when laughter reduces me to a shivering, quaking ball on the floor as, only by the grace of God, am I able to control my bladder.
Such was the scene at Friday night Bunco.
Now, for those of you who are unfamiliar with Bunco, it’s a silly little dice game that the gals in my ‘hood use as a flimsy excuse to take a once-a-month-mini-vacation from their families and drink and eat…and drink…and drink…and talk…and drink a bit more…and…
LAUGH LIKE HELL!
Honestly, we could just eliminate the damn dice and call it
This year, I decided to relinquish my ‘regular’ status and take a post as a ‘substitute’.
For one thing, I am NOT an entertainer; holding a DRUNKO party game at my humble abode throws me into a terrifying stress that all the ‘happy pills’ in the WORLD could not squelch.
As a sub, I enjoy ALL of the fun of DRUNKO — and none of the commitment (and accompanying panic attacks and ensuing soupy poopies).
Incredibly, I think I’ve been to more DRUNKOs this year as a sub than ever before as a ‘regular’!
(Plus, it’s a well-known fact that the subs clean house! I’ve extracted a jaw-dropping $25 from the regular Bunco Babes in the last month!)
But, I gotta tell ya;
These are no ‘regular’ babes.
These are 12 of the funniest people on Earth!
These are 12 incredible, intelligent, warm and beautiful women.
These are 12 amazing, accomplished women with the super-power to ‘hyper-task’.
Each of these 12 has the ability to simultaneously bitch-slap ya in the face with a stinging verbal assault, throw three dice and keep track of how many 5’s she’s rolled (as well as her win-loss-booby-ratio), insult the host’s menu, toss back the remainder of her fourth goblet of mango punch and hit’cha with a lip-ripplin’ man-belch and a follow-up-
I worship these women.
To be fair, not every Bunco Babe imbibes; there are a couple of teetotalers. These are also the ones who, like hawks, watch me keep score, fearing I may cheat or screw up our team score — due to wine or ditsy, they’re not sure.
(Geez! Ya make a couple of calculation errors — to your own detriment, I might add — and you’re labeled for life! ‘Don’t let The Viv keep score!’ There is NO MERCY at DRUNKO!)
No topic is taboo at DRUNKO: kids, sex, music, your kids having sex to music, sex, gossip, PTO, sex, bus bullies, dead-beat-hubbies, sex — you name it, it’ll come up.
Now, this game is always fun, especially if you have the right combination of people. There is one gal in particular, who happens to be THE FUNNIEST PERSON I’VE EVER MET. (We’ll call her ‘Deb’.)
Deb is just one of those folks who is naturally funny — in everything she says and does. Her delivery, her mannerisms and her facial expressions: priceless!
If Deb’s at DRUNKO, you’re GUARANTEED to narrowly miss a piss in your pants at some point that evening.
Deb filled us in on her kids. She told us about her son (now in high school) when she gave him the ‘sex talk’.
“The summer between 5th and 6th grade, he learned about the birds and the bees and Santa Claus in the same conversation. Then he spent the rest of the summer calculating how many times each of his neighbors had had sex — by the number of kids they had.” He was shocked to learn his grandparents were such horn-hounds — with 5 kids!
Deb’s impression of her kid counting his grandparents’ sexcapades on his fingers did me in. I was crying, crossing my legs, holding my aching abs and pleading for mercy.
Things got worse when we started talking about the joggers in our area.
Evidently, there is some ADONNIS runnin’ around, bare-chested and wearing teeny-tiny running shorts that accentuate the fact that he has ONE HUGE MUSCLE along his leg. We’re all now finding lame excuses ‘to run to the store’ to scout the surrounding area for the newly monnikered
Our moral compasses, Christian kindness and all hope of ever seeing Heaven tanked when the talk turned to a female jogger with the strangest gait known to man.
Now, rumor has it that she is the kindest, sweetest lady who happens to be one helluva nurse.
I give her credit and admire her effort (at least she’s exercising!), but just watching her run makes me hurt!
Remember the way Seinfeld’s Elaine dances?
Now picture her palsied…
After several strong impressions of this poor woman’s stride, a brainstorming session erupted:
‘Why the HELL does she run like that?’
* cerebral palsy?
* hip displaysia?
* stroke victim taking back her life?
* hoping folks will take pity and throw money?
Each subsequent suggestion was a subsequent nail in our own coffin (however, in my case, that equates to just one more millenium of matching socks in Sheol).
It’s a done-deal: the DRUNKO BABES are gonna BURN!
But we’re gonna have a ball before we go.