Party Bingo
Last night I was at a party where I hadn’t seen most of the people for a long time, and in catching up, one of my lawyer friends told me he’d sung at Carnegie Hall last year. Which, trust me, is not at all what you’d expect to come out of his mouth.
I told him that if we were playing Party Bingo, where everyone at the party got a square on the card, and one of the items was “Sang at Carnegie Hall,” no one would ever pick him to go in that slot. And he agreed–he’s really totally unlikely.
Which gave me the bright idea of playing it here. It won’t be quite as fun because we won’t have to guess who belongs to which description, but I’d still like to know:
Do you have a strange or surprising fact we can put in your square?
Technorati Tags: Party Games
Graham Nash grabbed me in a sub sandwich shop and kissed me.
I was in my early twenties.
Crosby and his wife came in to the store where I worked to get a new pair of glasses. I was an optician and they were on tour. The sub shop was two doors down in the same strip mall.
I really wish I could replace Graham Nash with like, oh, I don’t know, someone one like Sting.
But I can still say that I’ve been kissed by a rockstar.
Cool!!
I’ve also recited poetry with one of the X-Men.
James Marsden(cyclops)and I are the same age and he went to my my rival high school. We were both in competitive drama.
Heather, forget Graham Nash–we’re going with James Marsden. That guy is HOT. You really have managed to get around, haven’t you?
Hehehe.
heather, you have gotten around–can i hang out with you? i totally lose, lose, lose at party bingo. graham nash, carnegie hall, x-men (whoever they are) reciting poetry, for cryin’ out loud. i’ve eaten guinea pig (more than once), probably not that unusual, and liked it (thus, more than once)–maybe qualifies as surprising. i’ve also eaten armadillo and i’m not a texan (don’t recommend it). gosh, wouldn’t this make a sad obituary? i’d better get busy
I sat behind Jennifer Connelly in physics my freshman year of college. She’s as gorgeous in person as she is on screen.
Oh, and John Hodgman — the PC in the cool Apple commercials — was my roommate in college.
That’s it.
You guys are doing well. And Annette, I’d say “Enjoys eating guinea pig” definitely qualifies for a bingo square.
bloggies, calm down–your pets are safe. my consumption of guinea pig was in a controlled restaurant setting– (except that one time i was like really, really hungry and “fluffy” was looking so yummy, and one thing led to another…)
My brother-in-law is the Back Yard Burger guy.
(In one commercial he dresses up in a fire-retardant outfit and starts his charcoal grill with a flame-thrower. But the commercials are only aired in areas that have the BYB restaurants.)
Oh, and I’ve been shot at.
Heather, you are kicking everyone’s butts at this game!
Okay, time for me to throw in:
I almost joined the Army in college because I thought it would be a great way to lose weight. I went through the recruitment and assessments and everything. They were going to put me in military intelligence. The only thing holding me back from boot camp was that I was too fat (uh, hello, Mr. Recruiter, that’s the only reason I want to GO to boot camp in the first place. Der). So it didn’t work out. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU. Later in college I tried to join the CIA. I’d obviously been watching too much TV.
I’ve kissed Sting. It was a little awkward at first, then I just gave in and accepted it.
Lol.
I’m just trying to get in all the blogging time I can before November. I won’t be socializing then unless I reach my daily word count.
OKAY heather, YOU WIN, YOU WIN–you had me at “i’ve been shot”. is it too much to request the details or are you in witness protection in arm-pit, idaho?
Good work, Patrick.
I don’t know how anyone can top Heather.
Also, how do you know what’s interesting? I feel like my “interesting” stuff is out there. (Cover model, etc.)
I have had some close encounters with celebrities. A vampire bat landed on me once. I’ve performed on a flying trapeze.
I bet Sting has a very limber tongue.
Sigh.
And,no. I am not in the witness protection program. I was four. On my way home from the drive-in with my parents (when they were still married) and I was sitting in the middle of the front seat, since there wasn’t a back seat. I got tired. I rested my head in my mother’s lap, and then a gun shot blasted through the windshield where my head had been.
There was a sniper on the loose that summer, and he killed a few people. I don’t remember if he was caught.
Diana, I’d say “performed on a flying trapeze” definitely merits a square.
And Heather, talk about a brush with death! That’s incredible! And didn’t you tell us a while ago that your mother had a near death experience as she gave birth to you? What’s going on with you?
Wow. A flying trapeze performance is so cool! And brave.
“What’s going on with you?”
I don’t know. But with everything that I’ve been through, I believe I’m here for a reason. (I can count at least two more brushes with death.)
It makes me very paranoid that once that reason is fulfilled, I will die.
So I procrastinate alot.
I once commented on Heather’s blog.
Sorry, Patrick, that doesn’t compete with Diana’s flying trapeze square. But keep trying. The Sting item had potential.
And Heather, that’s the first time I’ve seen that as a reason for procrastination. Interesting theory.
I have had nothing interesting happen in my life.
Oh, come on, Nicole–that’s impossible! You’re just not thinking broadly enough. Doesn’t have to be a celebrity sighting (or kissing) or a high-wire act. It can be something people would be surprised matches you.
nicole, wanna come over to my house, maybe put a little pig on the barbie, watch reruns of “lost”?
Well, I’m feeling bit boring right now, but here goes: I completed a 3 week Federal Law Enforcement Training at a secluded compound in the southeast where I was firearmed trained on pistols, rifles and semiautomatic weapons as well as trained in techiniques for taking down psychotic men twice my size (and I’ve actually done it several times!). To really appreciate this you must know that I weigh under the minimum limit for donating blood to the Red Cross. I also ate rattlesnake meat while I was there. I’ve never been shot at, but I have seen someone shot on a street in NYC at close range. And perhaps, my best parlor trick is that I can touch my nose with the tip of my tongue.
Whoo-hoo, Deborah! You are on the board!
Ooh, ooh, Deborah totally reminds me of the potential inherent in our FOOD pasts!
When I was in Alaska, I ate reindeer. Yes, that’s right — I ate Rudolph. Deal with it.
Barry, Deborah, and Annette, please go stand over there.
barry, i can never look at you the same!
deborah, you scare the sh** out of me! for god’s sake i ate a rodent, totally different playing field.
I once had a remora suctioned to my back. I was told quite firmly that I could not eat it back. Ended up eating the shark instead.
I bet I could touch the tip of Deborah’s nose with my tongue, too.
I’ve eaten Rocky Mountain oysters. And Rattlesnake. And Alligator. And Shark. And Rabbit. (That one made me cry. Best tasting meat ever, but I couldn’t handle the emotional dilemma.)
Yes. I’ve dined on calf testicles. (RM oysters)
I do not recommend them.
But, I do recommend Buffalo meat. Low fat, and tastes great.
I used to live next to a buffalo farm. I found the meat tough and dry, but that could have been because of the cook. Liked alligator, had trouble with Pig tongue, although I think it reminded me of canadian bacon. Something I ate reminded me of canadian bacon. I think I had a rattlesnake stuffing.
I’ve had the RMO. Why – I’ll never know.
Actually, it was a similar circumstance to the remora. Yes, the remora was intentionally suctioned to my back. I’ll say it is more fun to intentionally suction them to someone else’s back. Especially, if they aren’t expecting it and have a sunburn.
“my mountain oyster story” by: annette
many years ago my husband worked with an engineer, “trudy”, whose husband, “roger”, was completing his ph.d in animal science. trudy was from rural west texas and roger had grown up on cattle ranches in colorado and new mexico. roger soon became the resident expert on castration and regularly traveled to the various university farming facilities located throughout the state to teach his trade. “cutting” etiquette apparently resposes the fruits of labor in the the individual wielding the knife, thus prompting the following call from trudy–(thick, slow drawl) “hey a (long “a”)nnette, roger just got back from a weekend of cuttin’ in **** and i’m fixin’ to make a mess of bulls bawls tonight, ya’all wanna come over for dinner?”–ever eager to demonstrate my receptivity to diverse cultural practices i said (gulp) “sure”. this was followed by an immediate call to my husband in an attempt to feign some excuse to get out of this too hastily accepted invitation, but no luck. i spent the rest of the day in a full-on anxiety attack as i envisioned one of ferdinand’s gigantic testicles sitting in the middle of a plate, perhaps still sporting the stray hair, with me sawing away with my knife and fork trying to maintain conciousness and keep my dry heaving both dry and relatively inconspicuous. imagine my surprise, and relief, to find out they were baby bulls’ balls (seriously, i had no frame of reference)–and delicious at that.
the end
Annette, you should write for children.
Yes, that would be quite a children’s book-I can see myself sitting up with the nightmares …
Oh, and Patrick, I’m waiting….
Deborah – How come I think you want to demonstrate your ability to take down psychotic men twice your size?
Robin – I’d like to point out, these comments are not a request to have RMO for appetizers at the book launch party. Maybe a plate for annette, but other than that….
LOL! Here I was thinking I lived a pretty exciting life and you guys make me feel ordinary!
But I’ll throw a couple tittilators into the ring . . .
I can tie a cherry stem into a knot. In my mouth. With my tongue.
I lived in a treehouse for 5 months. I was an adult, age 23, at the time.
When I sold vintage at the 26th St. Flea Market in Manhattan on Sundays some of my customers were in disguise, big sunglasses, hats, collars pulled up and such, but we vendors all knew who they were– Versace, et al. We had to pretend we didn’t know who they were or they wouldn’t buy vintage clothing from us. And we all knew what they did with that vintage clothing (can we say copy?)
I once caused a spate of UFO sightings to be called in from central NJ, so much so that they made the radio news. An old boyfriend and I constructed hot air balloons out of red or blue colored dry cleaner bags, small bottles stuffed with cotton and alcohol, and framed around the bottom with bent wire coat hangers to hold the bottles in the bottom. We flew them off a scenic outlook (Washington Rock) after testing for wind direction. Nice gentle breeze coming over our shoulder made it perfect.
am i the only one on this blog who’s just an eensy bit afraid of bj?