… and you’re invited!
I’m getting my wisdom teeth pulled on Thursday. Woohoo, general anesthetic!
And my mom is coming in from Ohio tomorrow afternoon to play with the baby while I recover. Woo hoo, familial support!
So, next time I’m on here I’ll probably be donked up on some high quality codeine, dribbling milkshake down my chin and staring through bleary squinty eyes as my brain goes CHOO CHOO CRAZY from the drugs and the pain. Woohoo!
Bring it! Get these fuckers out of my mouth!
Allow me to present the currently Official Rules and Regulations of the Baby Einstein Drinking Game, the rules I so longed for whilst imbibing my Yuengling the other evening, the rules for which the genius masterminding credit goes to Matt, who has no blog for me to link to, and instead will be linked to his last comment, in which he presented to me the aformentioned Rules.
You might want to wait until your children are grown and out of the house to play this.
Without much further ado — really, only a tinky winky bit of ado — here goes —
THE RULES
Phrase spoken in any language you know firsthand: 1 drink
Phrase spoken in a language you SAID you understand but cannot translate: 2 drinks (requires challenge from the gallery)
Phrase spoken in any language known by any of your current sexual partner(s): skip next drink
Lying about sleeping with women speaking French or Japanese: 2 drinks, or Midori shooters if you have them you lying poseur.
Toy train: drink
Wind-up toy: drink
Name-that-symphony correct answer: saves from next drink
Name-that-symphony incorrect answer (gallery): two drinks ‘cause you thought you were so smart, smartypants
Wind up toy crawling backward on ceiling to sounds of Underworld: switch back to beer
Presentation of idea
Also debuted on Supafine: Official Rules to the NUMB3RS drinking game.
Which is more important?
It’s very late. I’m trying to figure out how to get an f-i ligature in Photoshop but it’s so not happening.
Many freelance projects going on, which is fun, but I’ve got, like, designer’s block, or something. And those damned gingerbread/voodoo dolls at the top of this page are driving me batty.
But the fact that I’m blogging from bed is, indeed, some consolation.
1. Commander in Chief, last 15 minutes: I think I would really, really like this show if I ever watched it. I would be interested to see some analysis of it. Very, very sad that I would rather live in that show with her as my president than in the stupid real life Bush-o-rama I currently inhabit.
2. The Office: Why the FUCK isn’t this on tonight?!? Do not toy with me. I need this.
3. Boston Legal, first 38 minutes … ish: Can’t get past the shitty camerawork and bizarre editing. And was that Monica Potter?
4. My Wife and Kids: You know, the vehicle for that one Wayans guy. It’s the funniest thing in syndication at 6:30.
5. South Park, first 27 minutes, broadcast-television version: Actually, I have no idea. I taped it because I thought it was going to be another episode of SATC. Wasn’t. Getting really bad reception on FOX anyway.
6. Seinfeld, five minutes near the end: Hey! Catherine Keener! But wait. Still Seinfeld.
OK. And remember, kids: VCRs? Are TIVO for the rest of us. Thank you and good night.
Spurred on by Paige and a strange need to show you what’s in my pocketbook.
And I ask you: What’s in YOUR bag?
1 drink for every time …
2 drinks for every time …
3 drinks whenever …
Chug whenever …
Drink a case when …
Balto Bloggers’ Happy Hour at Little Havana tonight. And this time, I get to drink.
See you there, with bells on.
March 4: Two-year jobbiversary
March 6: Mom’s and Dad’s wedding anniversary
March 9: Supafine’s two-year bloggiversary
March 23: Owen turns 11 weeks old
March 26: My half-birthday: 25.5
God, how time flies.
UPDATE: A quick look at my MT-Blacklist items showed that .com was being blocked, and most blog URLs include that. So things should be fixed. For now.
A note on comments: Something’s gone awry, and you’re probably getting rejected if you try to comment because of “questionable content.” I’m not exactly sure what’s up, but I’m working on it. Please be patient, and send me an e-mail with whatever you’d like to say: marybeth at supamb dot com.
