I Left the Game to Find You at the Pavement
July 6, 2008 § 3 Comments
The Husband and I have a number of games we play, some on a daily basis, some weekly, some very rarely. These are not board games (though we do play those) or video games (Jesus Christ the Lord Almighty knows how much we play those), these are made-up games that exist, most likely, between the two of us. Both of our mothers taught us the importance of sharing, so, to that end, we are sharing rules and instructions of our four favorite made-up games. (Although I am doing this without Husband’s express written permission; I assume he will understand.)
The Poop Game: This is the easiest and most infantile of our games, and involves simply incorporating the word ‘poop’ into any song lyric or movie line possible. For example, riding in the car recently listening to George Michael’s ‘Faith,’ the chorus quickly, easily becomes “Because I gotta go poop a poop a poop.” The most immature person in the room generally enjoys this game the most; therefore, I am generally the one who never tires of this game.
The Jackpot Game: This one is relatively new, and it got its esteemed start thanks to the purchase of one white MINI Cooper, and then the sudden recent appearance of more and more MINI Coopers. The way to play is to look for three of something in one place; when you do, scream JACKPOT as loud as possible, especially if you are in public. Specific to MINI Coopers, there are different levels of Jackpot; so, for example, if you spot three MINIs of different colors and types, that’s just a plain jackpot. Three MINIs of the same color is a $100 jackpot; three MINIs of the same color and the same type (i.e., all Ss) is a $1,000,000 jackpot. You can play this game with anything; for example, last night we went out to dinner at a restaurant filled with a decidedly over 50 crowd, so I immediately whispered “Old people” and Husband shouted “JACKPOT” (it’s OK, they couldn’t hear). I have also started to play this game at work, during creative reviews; one day last week I had the word good in a piece of writing three times; I immediately jackpotted myself.
The Heist Game: This is our Ocean’s 11-inspired game, and involves pretending that you are in the planning stages of knocking something over — the bar at which you’re having drinks, the bank at which you’re opening an account, etc., etc. It requires a lot of confident sass-talking and on-the-spot making-shit-up, so it’s probably our most advanced game (and it’s also the game in which I am most likely to become annoyed with Husband, because I approach it with an extremely high level of seriousness, and he does not). Sample things you might say to each other are “Don’t make this about them” and “I’ve been looking at blueprints all Goddamn day” and “How do we steal the diamonds?” and “We don’t use guns!” and “We could try a Gilroy.” The last time we played this game, our bartender glanced at us briefly and fearfully when she overheard me say, “Let’s torture them for six hours, then see who wants to eat cake.” Remember, you must make accidental interlopers slightly intrigued … but not frightened so much that they phone the police.
The Coma Game: This is probably our most controversial game, and the only one in which there is truly a winner and a loser. It requires one person to lay in bed, very still, pretending to be in a coma; the other must play the hospital visitor, and their goal is to make the comatose player come out of the catatonic state. This is easier said than done, mostly because I am awesome at it, and Husband is not. There are several ways to approach your turn — straight (i.e., the sad spouse), movie-level (i.e., the distraught detective), sheer ridiculous (i.e. Pussycat Doll-style dancing on the bed). One of you will undoubtedly be better than the other, but bear this advice in mind: Even the most awesome player can be awoken by the threat of teabagging.