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!

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!