4.03.2009

Wet Hot Drinking Game Friday

I want to share my morning with you. Because I want there to be a written account of what happened that caused me to die of shock and awe. I don't want there to be any ambiguity or leftover conspiracy theories about what happened. This is it. Case closed.

This morning started like any other. My alarm went off at six and I rolled around in my bed, audibly whimpering and feeling sorry for myself until about 7:50. Although I whimpered 15 minutes longer than I normally do, I was still out the door at 8:45, on-time and feeling good. I was having an unusually good hair day and today's outfit was cuter than I had expected, so I was in high spirits as I strode through my apartment lobby, ready to face the world.

That is until I stepped outside and realized I had forgotten my umbrella. I have what I lovingly refer to as "Frizzy Jew Hair," which I flat iron every morning. If even one single drop of moisture comes within a 30-foot radius of my hair, it poofs like a poodle on acid. So I had a decision to make: run back up and get my umbrella and risk being late to work, or sacrifice looking like Art Garfunkel for the rest of the day and go sans umbrella. Shockingly, I went the less shallow route and decided to be on time.

As I walked to the metro and felt my painstakingly straightened and styled hair begin to frizz and curl, my good mood plummeted. Plummeted into negative numbers. My hair dictates my mood, so I was pretty much ready to punch the nearest homeless person in the homeless face.

When I got to the metro platform, things went from bad to worse. Three No Passenger trains whizzed through the station without stopping before, 20 minutes later, a train finally stopped. Of course because not one single person in this god-fearing town understands the importance of the "MOVE TO THE CENTER OF THE CAR WHEN BOARDING THE TRAIN" warning, I had to wait for another less crowded train to arrive.

Five minutes later, one finally did. And come hell or high water, I was getting on it. Ass out and elbows flying, I fought my way through the herd of mediocre-looking people to ensure my spot in the car. I had just barely made it on when the person behind me shoved me forward and into the arms of a woman wearing a Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt. I turned around to confront my attacker, and what I saw made my blood pressure skyrocket.

There were three, count 'em!, three people with mother fucking rolling briefcases standing in the doorway behind me and one person holding his unicycle. WHAT. IN THE. FUCKITY. FUCK? That's what I had been shoved forward and forced into a homely lesbian experience for?! So you can fit your nerdy rolling briefcase and a UNICYCLE onto the train?! I don't recall buying tickets to the circus, but I certainly would like my money back, thank you.

I know I've already discussed this in my Rolling Briefcase Manifesto, but seriously, you people are the scum of the earth. How rude and presumptuous do you have to be to think it's A-OK to force people to make room for your unnecessarily large and inconvenient rolling briefcase? NEVERTHELESS A UNICYCLE! What the fuck was that?! He wasn't even being ironic or promoting a circus! That really was his means of getting to work! He was wearing a nice suite and an EPA windbreaker! I mean, I'm all for reducing my carbon footprint and all, but do we really have to throw all dignity out the window and ride unicycles to work like god damn circus acts?!

But it gets even more ridiculous! At Farragut North, an older man wearing a top hat got on the clown car. A large, unnecessary, Daddy Warbucks-style, top hat. What in God's holy name is wrong with you people?!

Oh, but this shit show aint over yet! Sit back down! As our train rolled out of the station, the conductor suddenly slammed on the brakes, causing (and I couldn't even make this up if I tried,) the Monopoly guy to lose his balance, which caused him to fall backwards into Jo-Jo the Circus boy, who lost his grip on the Unicycle, which fell over and smashed into the face of an Asian woman, who started hysterically crying.

I have no words. I'm officially spent.

Thank god moments later we arrived at Metro Center, where I bolted out this three-ring circus and booked it to work. When I finally arrived at the office, my boss gave my frizzy mane a disapproving look before she reamed me out for being so late to work. With boiling blood, I looked her in the eye and mustered a meek-little, "It'll never happen again."

Because really, it better not happen again! I don't want to live in a world where it's a normal occurance to have to commute to work on a crowded train full of briefcase rolling, unicycle riding, top-hat wearing, Asian face-basing, three-ring-circus FREAKS! So don't worry sugar-tits! It'll never fucking happen again!

Sigh...

Given this week's Michael Showalter reference and the ridiculous events that transpired this morning, it seems like there's only one movie Showalter-y and ridiculous enough to be this week's drinking game. Yep, you guessed it. I give you the Wet Hot American Summer Drinking Game!
Photobucket
Rules:
Drink When:
- Writing is shown on the screen to indicate what time of day it is
- The Bee Keeper does a radio broadcast
- Bethesda's own Jewish Day School is referenced
- Katie thinks of someone for Coop to date
- Victor says "fuck"
- The cook clarifies what he just said
- The talent show is referenced
- You hear the sound of a clay pot breaking
- Someone asks for a piece of gum
- Anyone makes out
- Gail talks about her ex-husband
- There's an astrophysics reference
- Andy throws a kid in the woods
- The 12-sided die is rolled
- Shirts are swapped
- The talent show emcee makes a joke about how old he is
- And finally, just chug during the chase scene, simply because it's my favorite:


That's a lie. This is my favorite:


That's a lie too. The entire movie is my favorite.

Thank you as always for reading and we'll see you back here Monday morning!

10 comments:

Wiggs (The Beholder) said...

Haha, one of the colleges in my five-college consortium was known for having a unicycle team and every time my friends and I got drunk we would go and find the unitards and knock them over. Your little train circus sounds hilarious! Karma in action. I wonder what the crying woman did to deserve getting clocked in the face.

Wanna know something sad? I've never seen Wet Hot American summer all the way through because the year it came out on DVD was my sluttiest year ever. In the span of a couple of months, I had like five guys ask me to come back to their rooms to "watch this funny movie"...well, obviously we never got around to watching it. But I've seen enough chunks of it that every time it's on, I feel like I already know what's going to happen (plus I get flashbacks to my beer-goggle-induced college hookups). Fack. My sluttiness ruined more than my self-esteem; it ruined Wet Hot American Summer for me.

Laura said...

I have I told you about the time I ventured to Shaker Heights, OH (birthplace of WHAS writer David Wain... who also plays Louis in The Baxter) for a midnight showing of Wet Hot American Summer where my brother dressed up like David Hyde Pierce aka Henry and won a signed poster form the movie Ten? True story.

Patrick said...

So, I'm living in a hotel right now (have been since January 5th...until next Friday...don't worry, it's for work and it's free).

I went down to grab some breakfast this morning and I swear to you, 3 people are pulling their luggage through the breakfast area. I accidentally nudged a ladies suitcase with my leg when I was trying to reach for some bacon and she looked at me and said, "WELL, EXCUUUSE ME!"

Just. Like. That.

She is so lucky that it's Friday or I would've gone insane on her bitch ass.

Instead, I noticed that one of the outer pockets was open on her suitcase so I waited until she turned around and dropped 3-5 pieces of bacon for her to find when she gets home.

Enjoy the weekend!

jessie said...

i have seen not one, but TWO unicyclists in my neighborhood and both times it has COMPLETELY blown my mind.

2 Birds, 1 Blog: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

Ok. Wow. Wiggs- I'm jealous of your ability to get Wet Hot invites back to guys' rooms, but you've gotta watch it with a chastity belt and get through the entire thing. You won't regret it!

Laura- Any chance of emailing me a picture of that? Because it sounds priceless.

Patrick- L0Lz/fuck that bitch. That's the thing! These asshole, luggage rolling NERDS are always so fucking mean! What gives YOU the right nerd??? Fucking Meeks....

Have a good weekend guys!

Talia said...

HAHAHHAHAHAH, only you!
you should write that in your gournal. this is my fav line of the movie:

Lindsay: What 'cha doing?
Andy: Writing in my gournal. I write my thoughts in it every day.
Lindsay: Oh, you mean a journal?
Andy: Yeah, whatever. I guess I'm not all smart like you.

Anonymous said...

I was out for a run last summer and (I shit you not) saw a man doing hill sets on his unicycle.
Up the hill.
Down the hill.
Up the hill.
Down the hill.
All on one wheel.
I near had a heart attack trying to continue running while covertly laughing hysterically.

Julia said...

I recently graduated from law school. In case you're not aware, the student body of pretty much every law school in existence is at least 50% douchebag. As a result, the number of rolling backpacks found in law school is disproportionately higher than the rest of the population.

So let me tell you. Aside from your terrible metro experience, there is nothing more obnoxious when, on a Friday morning, after settling into a tiny desk in a crowded lecture hall, hung over as all hell from boozing it up with undergrads the night before, you are forced to squeeze in even further under your desk so some assclown can get behind you with their ridiculous, vastly oversized, hey-everyone-look-at-how-many-books-I-have-to-carry-because-I'm-so-smart rolling backpack. It is INFURIATING.

Although, I will say one thing. Rolling backpacks do lend themselves to some pretty funny nicknames. My personal favorite was the nickname given to the blonde, quasi-slutty rolling backpack owner: "Roller Girl."

Hope you had a good drinking game Friday night!

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