Blingo Takes Reid by Storm

Well, I'm going to first start out by noting the fact that this post may seem a little dated. Basically, I wrote the majority of this article a month or so ago but very adeptly dropped the proverbial ball and never actually posted it. But, since Luke so appropriately called us out, I figured I'd need to do something to help jumpstart this blog a little bit. Sooo, I will now proceed to recount a portion of the events and happenings encompassing the Blingo party that Glen had previously referenced... at least I'll do my best. Frankly, I struggle to peice the entire night back together. But, I think my alcohol-induced, fleeting memory of the night juxtaposed with the happenings that I do remember only further supports my theory that it was an all too successful party.

I don't really know where the idea for Blingo came from. But, it was originally deamed by Maribel to be "Titty Bingo". The combination of titties and Bingo seemed palatable, so I decided to roll with it. Aside from a catchy name, I thought the party needed an extra twist and a dash of pizazz. I racked my brain for the better part of a week for an appropriate supporting theme but couldn't dust up any good candidates. I tried to maintain a certain degree of tact with my ideas, but all of the fitting themes that I generated all seemed far too dirty and tasteless. To somewhat defend myself, the name "Titty Bingo" quickly leads the mind down a path adorned with deviant thoughts of filth. In any case, I am not quite sure what my stream of thought was, but I decided drinking copious amounts of Fourties would have to be an integral part of the party. My only guess is that I processed the situation as follows: Titties = Rap videos = Rappers = Fourties and bitches. All I know is that rappers were the primary axis of my thought pattern because I simultaneously found my self shouting "Bling Bliiiiiiing, biatch!" And then it was clear. "We shall drink Fourties and play Bingo ; when a player yells out 'Bingo', the winner will be generously awarded with Bling (i.e. Gold tooth inserts, faux diamond rings, pimp canes, and other such materialized glory). Let it be called Blingo!" It was fate and history in the making.

When it came down to it, the party launched off like a midget out of a canon; we had record attendance, not to mention the fact that the patrons came holding no mercy for their livers. Quite honestly, I don't remember too many details between point A, party commencement, and point B, waking up in the morning. Here are a couple of bullet points to fill in the gaps for you:
1. Reid consumes 40oz beer #1.
2. Reid consumes 40oz beer #2.... woops
3. Reid inexplicably decides to take some shots of whiskey and then proceeds to drink
whiskey directly from the handle. This was a mistake.
4. Reid consumes 40oz beer #3. You know the saying "Third time is a charm"? Well,
apparently this saying does not carry over to drinking Fourties. In the game of Fourties,
the third time quickly culminates to an uneasy stomach and a serious head-ache ; the
combination of the two is not charming in the least.

Anything and everyting after that 3rd Fourtie is an absolute mystery. The circumstances and events between the whisper of the untwisted metal cap and the jearing plink at the bottom of the bottle are up to greater debate than who shot John F. Kennedy or where lie the remains of the late Jimmy Hoffa.

In my next moments of clarity, I remember Kevin rudely rousing me with some chattering and rustling about. I awoke fully clothed, sprawled face-down in the middle of the floor of our living room with my left shoe missing and my forehead buried in a sock posing as a pillow. It was a moment of magnanimous confusion. I took a minute or two to orient myself, made partial sense of everything and managed to pin-ball my way back to my room as Kevin and Lynn stood aside laughing to fictional decibles.

The worst part about it is that I had to be in at work the next day, granted it wasn't until 1:30 in the afternoon. To this day, I still regret that third Fourtie. Sitting in front of a flickering computer screen for 4 hours with a fault-line through the middle of your head is not a pleasant experience. I wish to never endure such a disaster again.

However, note one thing: We have not heard the last from Blingo. Blingo will rear its face again, and it will be glorious.