The Daily Dump

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Wednesday, June 28

At Some Point I Really Need To Write An Existentialist Short Story Entitled “Keep In Mind That The Closest Exit May Be Behind You”

I’m struggling to play catch-up here at work (as well as readjust to the fact that I’m no longer surrounded by woods and lobster and this large thing next to my chair isn’t a cooler full of Blue Moon but rather a filing cabinet full of . . . things I should know more about than I do). But I think one quick story can about sum up the weekend:

Saturday night, The Girlfriend’s friends and family and I sat down after barbecue and drinks to play a board game called Zobmondo!!. Really, there’s little point to the game other than to pose inane “Would you rather . . .” questions to one another within a minimal structure that allows you to do so without having to actually say, “How about we all sit down and ask each another ‘Would you rather . . .’ questions?” which is one of those things that really everyone enjoys doing, but would never admit to a crowd. So we set up five teams of two and each team draws a card with five “Would you rather . . .” questions written on it. They then read the question in the color corresponding to what color space they are on the board (much like trivial pursuit). Then the team reading the question has to guess how everyone else will answer.

The game is rolling along and the questions are innocent enough (Would you rather swallow a golf ball or pee out a marble? Would you rather drink Mexican tap water or water from a hot tub after a frat party?) until The Girlfriend decides that the game is too “structured” and we should just pick a card and read the best question, colors be damned. So when it comes to The Girlfriend’s friend Ann and her husband David, everyone watches as they scan the card saying, “No, not that one, boring, OH YES THAT ONE!” We get excited in anticipation of the question and also because we are drunk and drunks are easily excitable, especially about board games with not one but TWO exclamation points in the title.

Finally, Ann reads the question, and quite loudly in fact, as though she were unsure of herself and thought the best thing to do would be feign confidence with increased volume:


There is a stunned silence after just hearing the word “masturbation” said rather loudly in the company of The Girlfriend’s parents. Everyone is shifting and laughing awkwardly and saying, just to get it over with quickly, “Definitely the first one, you know, being caught.” People unrelated to the family are nervously scanning the relatives, running the family tree of possible combinations through their mind:

The Girlfriend being caught by her Mother, The Girlfriend catching her Mother.

The Girlfriend’s sister being caught by her Mother, The Girlfriend’s sister catching her Mother.

The Girlfriend’s brother being caught by his mother, The Girlfriend’s brother catching his mother . . .

until finally the discussion is coming to a close and The Girlfriend’s father, who has said little during the entire game thus far, speaks up and says, “Well I’m pretty sure I’d rather be caught myself, than, you know, catch your grandmother . . .” The room erupts at the unveiling of the one combination that everyone’s respective subconscious had been protecting them from. The Girlfriend hits me on the leg and says, “Make me another drink. Now,” and, after everyone calms down, Ann innocently says, “I thought it would be funny.” Funny, indeed.

Later that night, everyone is getting ready for bed and The Girlfriend’s father and I are left alone in the living room watching TV. After a few minutes the silence becomes tense, but rather than say anything that might elicit a memory from the past two hours, I say the safest thing I possibly can:

“Turned out to be a pretty nice day, didn’t it?”

(Note: In order to win the game, you have to create your own “Would you rather . . .” question at the very end. My potential game-winning question, had we even come close to winning, was to be: Would you rather drown a litter of puppies or shoot an elderly person? At least in my mind the answer is pretty obvious.)


I can confidently say that I'd much rather shoot an elderly person wading through a river with a bag of 5 puppies she was trying to take home to her granchirren. 6 birds, one bullet.

By Anonymous A co-worker, at 2:02 PM  

I'd easily shoot Dick Cheney than kill some puppies (Dick counts as elderly, right?), but I'd also rather pee out a marble than have to play that game in the presence of my parents or in-laws. Well done for surviving that one.

By Blogger Cherry Ride, at 2:06 PM  

See ya, grandma.

Welcome back! The irony of your weather comment is not lost on me. Ah, pressure of speech!

Hope you got out of the weekend with your relationship with the GF's family intact. :)

By Blogger babyoog, at 2:07 PM  

Your plane wasn't struck by lightning, yea! Elderly person, definitely.

By Blogger HelloBettyLou, at 2:23 PM  

It depends on where I'd have to shoot them, what I was shooting them with and if I'd go to jail or not, and if I could shoot them in the rear end with say, a beebie gun or a rubber band, and not go to jail for it I would totally shoot the old person.

However, even if I had to shoot them with a sawed off shot gun in the head I would probably still pick the old person...there's no WAY I could drown the litter of puppies.

Jesus. What's wrong with me?

By Blogger Jenni, at 2:38 PM  

Ok, it definitely depends. Do I get to pick the old person? I can think of a couple really horrible old people who wouldnt be missed ( I do live in South Florida afterall). I wouldnt want to shoot a sweet old person like the man who brings me bananas each morning. I could probably drown a litter of pit bulls that were bred to fight no problem, but NOT baby golden retrievers. A litter of Chinese or Japanese Cresteds, or whatever they're called, might be ok to drown too. Apparently I am really shallow and feel more inclined to kill ugly things than fuzzy cute things.

By Blogger Wide Lawns Subservient Worker, at 3:18 PM  

THe old people. THey have lived there life. Do it like the pengiuns. If they are sick or old or both, put them on an iceberg and let them float away. They are a burden to the tribe.

By Blogger Softball Slut, at 3:29 PM  

Swallow the golfball;
Drink the Mexican tap water (while downing a bottle of Pepto and some antibiotics);
Get caught;
Shoot the old person.

By Blogger Jaime, at 3:48 PM  

Well if I caught my grandmother masturbating, I think I'd probably turn the gun on myself.

By Blogger Carrie Broadshoulders, at 3:51 PM  

My grandmother once talked about becoming a swinger. In a weekly bulletin that she sends out to the entire family. And I'm almost one hundred percent sure that she was NOT talking about dancing... at least not vertically. Strangely, the whole thing just amused me.

By Blogger Rebecca, at 3:56 PM  

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

By Blogger Dwight, at 4:20 PM  

I'd much rather shoot an elderly person than be caught by my mother while masturbating OR catching my mother masturbating. I might live through the humiliation for the puppies though.

By Blogger Dwight, at 4:23 PM  

ummm.. that question would be totally humiliating if playing with your (my) parents! I would have slithered under the table...or at least developed a good case of the runs and hit the bathroom!

By Anonymous Kerry, at 4:56 PM  

I'm too clever to let you catch me.

By Blogger belligerent mother, at 5:05 PM  

I thought everyone knew that conversations about sex/masturbation can take place between parents and children can take place only under the pretense that neither the parent or the child has ever done either. Sheesh.

Shoot the old person.

By Blogger Leezer, at 5:06 PM  

"Apparently I ... feel more inclined to kill ugly things than fuzzy cute things."

Hence the whole "clubbing seals" debate.

By Blogger Cheeseburger, at 5:09 PM  

Anyone else feel slightly awkward by the Belligerent Momma's comment?

By Blogger Rune, at 7:59 PM  

Yes, rune, I feel a little Oedipalicious!

By Blogger Dwight, at 9:27 PM  

A better question to ask is to ask BI's mother if she ever caught him!

By Blogger Carrie Broadshoulders, at 9:46 AM  

How about shooting the person that came up with that masturbation question?

By Blogger Brookelina, at 11:27 AM  

THe fact that she posed the question ina family setting makes makes entire body quake with schadenfreude! I love it...Always spare the puppies...

By Blogger JP, at 12:02 PM  

my mom tells me too much about her sex life. It's not about catching her, it's about getting her to shut up about it

By Blogger Softball Slut, at 1:36 PM  

My mother walked in on me one day when I was occupied with a stack of my father's old magazines.

She took a long look and said, "I don't think you're doing it correctly."

That put me in therapy for years.

By Anonymous slinkybender, at 6:15 PM  

i've played that game before. We didn't use the board either. But the favorite question still surfaces many years later. Would you rather fart blue smoke or sweat green ooze?

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 9:48 PM  

Is shooting the person who wrote the puppies question an option?

By Anonymous Bird Girl, at 4:08 AM  

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