Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Pictionary hates me

I was up all night playing a stupid video game. The following morning, 11am-ish, I get up and take Andy dog out to the yard so he can go to the bathroom. I’m squinting in the sunlight, when one of our landlords walks up and starts talking to me. She invites me over to hang out with other ladies and learn Spanish, she said something about carnitas.They’re nice enough ladies and are always inviting me to do things with them. I always decline, I’m not terribly social, but I don't want to be rude. In my pre coffee delirium I say yes.  
I show up at the shindig, with some beer.

 It’s 3 older women, speaking broken Spanish and making food. They are all old friends, conversation wise there is not much space for me to interject. We eat, and they try to convince me to join their choir. Next they set up to play Pictionary. They shake up the rules, you have to say what the picture is in Spanish.
My first picture I have to draw is Michael Jackson. Not the charming beer enthusiast/author. No, the flamboyant pop star, accused child molester confirmed crazy guy Michael Jackson. I draw a stick figure wearing one glove. My partner guesses baseball mitt. I draw a stick figure wearing one glove, grabbing his groin. My partner says Michael Jackson.  Yay we win that round! We all have a laugh at my silly stick figure drawing. I say, “I would have drawn a nervous kid next to him but the timer was running out.”
                                The laughter stops. Oh boy. Anyway…….
The game of Spanish Pictionary proceeds normally. It’s my turn to pick a card again, I get Princess Diana.  Awww C'mon!  It’s hard enough tip toeing around their delicate sensibilities. Without the gods of Pictionary messing with me. The image below is a reproduction of what I drew.

My partner guesses Princess Diana right away. Everyone wants to see what I drew. Then, like older women tend to do. They start chatting on and on about poor Princess Diana. And how they all felt a connection with her, and always thought they were so much alike and how the world lost a hero and so on. I pipe in “What the heck did Princess Diana do that made her such a saint to everyone?  Mother Theresa died like 2 days after Diana, and nobody gave a crap. Can someone explain what Princess Diana did that was so amazing?”

They all three paused. Until one of them said “She was really pretty.” Another “Yes and she had a great sense of fashion, she was like a breath of fresh air in that family.” “I think she did charity work didn’t she?”
I said “Yes she gave to charity but all the royals do. It’s how they pretend to be involved with everyday people. But throwing money at a situation really doesn’t compare to what Mother Theresa did for people, despite being slightly crazy.”

As though they were trying to strike a compromise one of them suggested. “I think Mother Theresa died when she did, to comfort Princess Diana in Heaven.” They all “Awwwed” at each other as though it were the nicest thing they ever heard of. I told them that was a stupid idea. I guess the moral of the story is, unless you’re my grandmother. I probably shouldn’t be around old ladies.

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