So, The Mama calls me up and asks me if I would do her a favour. “Sure”, I say, “what can I do to help?”. “Come with me somewhere…” she says. “Sure”, I say again, perhaps a little too quickly, followed by “When?” “Tonight…” she slowly replies, causing a certain amount of mistrust on my part. “…ummm… ok… where?”. She says “I would like for you to come with me to….”
*…self preservation instincts scream for me to run… but it's too late...*
“…..bingo.”
Fuck.
But I love The Mama, so there I am at a bingo hall. And I’m completely out of my element. I mostly note that it’s not at all like you see in the motion pictures or the television. Sure, it is largely filled with elder humans and a few other non-rabbit stereotypes that they suggest. But the media does not accurately portray how SERIOUS these people take their bingo. It’s freakin’ TENSE, and far from a happy place to be.
And as for playing this game, that isn’t like what they lead you to believe either. Because you don’t actually play bingo, it seems – they give you machines that play bingo for you. Seriously, you give them money, and then watch the machines play. And watching machines play bingo is perhaps the only thing less interesting than actually playing bingo.
So, needless to say I’m bored senseless in very short order, and I'm trying to stay conscious and appear interested. Unsuccessfully. At first, I start fantasizing about Ms. Kendra (assisted by the mental recreation of the yummy new pictures on the Revive website)… about chasing her around the massage table until she stops and gives me that Kendra smile… and especially about what that Kendra smile invariably leads to.... But it seems that having a series of very (very) mature ladies yell out “BALLS!” every five minutes or so kinda kills that ‘happy’ (not “BINGO!”, mind you… they do that too when their machines tell them to, of course, but for some reason that I can’t understand, they all seem to like to yell out “BALLS!” quite randomly). By the end, I’m actually wondering if trying to pee in my own face would make the whole experience more interesting - and thereby more bearable.
I think what I’m trying to say is that rabbits hate bingo.
Either that, or I’m trying to say that Ms. Kendra has awesome new pictures to look at) ), and that I terribly miss what that certain Kendra smile invariably leads to ( ).
And I will neither confirm nor deny that I tried to pee in my own face this evening.
Happy thumping, all!
*…self preservation instincts scream for me to run… but it's too late...*
“…..bingo.”
Fuck.
But I love The Mama, so there I am at a bingo hall. And I’m completely out of my element. I mostly note that it’s not at all like you see in the motion pictures or the television. Sure, it is largely filled with elder humans and a few other non-rabbit stereotypes that they suggest. But the media does not accurately portray how SERIOUS these people take their bingo. It’s freakin’ TENSE, and far from a happy place to be.
And as for playing this game, that isn’t like what they lead you to believe either. Because you don’t actually play bingo, it seems – they give you machines that play bingo for you. Seriously, you give them money, and then watch the machines play. And watching machines play bingo is perhaps the only thing less interesting than actually playing bingo.
So, needless to say I’m bored senseless in very short order, and I'm trying to stay conscious and appear interested. Unsuccessfully. At first, I start fantasizing about Ms. Kendra (assisted by the mental recreation of the yummy new pictures on the Revive website)… about chasing her around the massage table until she stops and gives me that Kendra smile… and especially about what that Kendra smile invariably leads to.... But it seems that having a series of very (very) mature ladies yell out “BALLS!” every five minutes or so kinda kills that ‘happy’ (not “BINGO!”, mind you… they do that too when their machines tell them to, of course, but for some reason that I can’t understand, they all seem to like to yell out “BALLS!” quite randomly). By the end, I’m actually wondering if trying to pee in my own face would make the whole experience more interesting - and thereby more bearable.
I think what I’m trying to say is that rabbits hate bingo.
Either that, or I’m trying to say that Ms. Kendra has awesome new pictures to look at
) ), and that I terribly miss what that certain Kendra smile invariably leads to ( ). And I will neither confirm nor deny that I tried to pee in my own face this evening.
Happy thumping, all!
