There are no “drinking games." All drinking is a game. Who you drink with, what you drink, how much
you drink, when you drink, and finally why do you allow certain people to play…with
you…when you drink.
Marriage changes multiple rules of the drinking game. “I’m drinking to try to loosen up and get to
know you” quickly turns into “I’ll just have a glass of Pinot because I’m
married and can’t do the splits in a bar dance contest anymore.”
I’ll meet you halfway on that one. Married or not, splits in a bar dance contest
is still a bad idea, (until you win the 200 dollars to pay your tab), but if
say, on a Friday night, I want to get a little slap happy and play some
half-ass Scrabble with Teen Jeopardy playing in the background, that should be
kosher. That should be more than
kosher.
That should be like Hebrew
National wife award style level awesome.
Mr. Shambels, (he can take my blog last name since I took his
“real life” one or whatever), is a snapdragon over that scene. I make dinner, he talks about work – or not –
and then he goes night-nights.
“Everyone goes night-night’s” he says. But…no. Insomniacs do not go night-nights so I have to
play with all of the caller-ins to Andy Cohen’s “Watch What Happens Live” show until
I can join the unconscious club that he so quickly can attend a meeting.
I’ll begrudgingly admit that it works though. A shift in crazy or responsibility in either
of us would surely cause the universe to implode.
