Drunken Recollection… Politically Incorrect Answer

Last night at trivia, we blew it.  We blew it big time.  Out of a possible 73 points, we had 65 – and that’s a rarity (high 50’s are usual).  We could have actually scored higher if I would have went with my gut instincts of Applebee’s (“Where did Plaxico Burress say he shot himself?”) and goat (“From what animal does cashmere wool come from?”), as opposed to Denny’s and sheep.

But the last question… it’s all political correctness’ fault.

Prior to President Barack Obama, who was the last African-American to be recognized as Time Magazine’s Man Person of the Year?

Person of the Year? As opposed to alien?

Person of the Year? As opposed to alien?

nelsonmandelaidi_aminWe put: Nelson Mandela

We even thoughtIdi Amin.

We didn’t think of this guy, because we didn’t go back in time that far:

mlktime

But in reality, African-American has become so synonymous with Black in this country, we didn’t even consider the American part.

Oh well.  We didn’t win even though we were in first place before the final question (you wager your points à la Final Jeopardy).  But I did steal a cool NFL glass from the bar.  It had all the team logos covering it.  Suckas!*

*KARMA SIDENOTE: When I was dropped off at home, I realized my wallet was missing.  I figured I had left it at the bar.  Since I planned on taking the glass pretty early in my drinking, I focused mostly on that task, and found it fitting I abandoned my Billabong billfold at the scene of the crime.  Turns out I dropped it in my friend’s car.  But for a second, I learned my lesson.

In My Brain While Sleeping… “The Baby That Ate Whole Food!”

My girlfriend is a professional night time parking lot cleaner.  What this job entails exactly, I’m not sure (other than the obvious).

I’m unemployed, so I take care of her infant son (or is it ours?) who is about, oh, twelve-inches-tall-with-his-legs-curled-up old.  He wears a one piece pajama suit the color of mint chocolate chip ice cream, minus the chocolate chips.  He barely knows how to use any of his limbs, so it shocks me the day he asks me telepathically:

“Can I have I bite of that burger?”

At first, I look around.  There’s no way the baby said something.  Besides, do you know what it took for me to get this burger from Applebee’s Carside to Go without a car?

“Yeah, it’s me.  I can speak with my mind.”

I looked the baby in the eyes, and he raised his eyebrows to prove it.

“Okay, so even though you may be able to speak in thoughts,” I told him, “you don’t have any teeth.  Plus, I don’t think you do a good job digesting what you get as it is.”

“Try eating what I do, and see what happens to you,” he warned.  “My gums are the toughest gums you’ll ever meet.  Go on and stick out your finger.  I’ll bite it clean off.”

I believed him, so I cut off a piece of the burger and fed it to him.  He chewed with such delight that his smile made his eyes almost disappear behind chubby cheeks.

“Now let’s go get some chili cheese curly fries,” he suggested.

I chastised him.  “Don’t think with your mouth full.”  Then I got up and grabbed my coat and his blankets and carriage.

INGREDIENTS: Game 1 of the World Series… and two hours of Lego Batman: The Videogame

(CAVEAT LECTOR: For the sake of keeping the dream retelling from going completely off the deep end, I omitted the part where the baby just turned into a floating head.)