Labradoodle & Goldendoodle Forum
This blog has absolutely nothing to do with doodles, except that I own two, and we do all live in a small town. If you blink when you drive down our main drag, you will miss our one restaurant/bar, wine shop, Fire station, and Bingo hall. Apparently, we like to drink and play Bingo in our little town from this description.
About once a year, I am not ashamed to say, a group of friends and I meet for Bingo. Mostly, we go around Thanksgiving when my mom and aunt are visiting, but one lucky time my daughters reluctantly went along too. Since we are not regulars, when we walk in, the room always gets quiet and everybody stops and stares at the outsiders. I made the mistake once of asking a group of ladies if anyone was sitting at the empty table next to them, and almost got my head bit off when they explained that the wooden tulips on the table meant the seats were saved. I quickly surmised that they do not like witty repartee because right after I said, “Add a couple of windmills, and we could be in Holland,” they went back to talking amongst themselves and I swear I heard the word idiot.
Our party always includes my very good friend and her twin. I call them the Doublemint twins, but the Giggle sisters would also suffice. The last time we went, there was an elderly lady at a nearby table who had a large, gross bandage across most of her forehead and I said to the one twin, “Look, that lady over there probably told the ambulance driver she knew she had a major head wound, but could they just stop off at Bingo before they take her to the ER,” and I thought the twin was going to get us kicked out of the hall for disorderly conduct.
So far, I have learned that serious Bingo players do not like laughter, talking, and twins screaming, “I won” on a game called Horse Races when, in fact, the Bingo caller was explaining the rules of the game and it had not even started. I live in this town and once you get a label like “stupid Bingo lady with stupid friends” it is very hard to shake.
Up until recently, I have also had a running debate with my oldest daughter that the Bingo caller is Osama bin Laden. She insists that she worries about me on so many levels, but he was a dead ringer for him and what better place to hide than a small town in PA calling Bingo. I have not been to Bingo since Osama bin Laden was killed, but come Thanksgiving, when we go back to Bingo, I will see if my theory proved correct.
The few times my mom has gone with us, she has impressed the townspeople with her patience. She likes to wait until silence falls over the room and then loudly comment how slowly the Bingo caller is calling and how she calls Bingo at her place and her balls are faster. Most of the time, I twirl my finger next to my ear and mouth “crazy” to all the locals to try and distance myself from her during her outbreaks and keep on their good sides.
My all time favorite Bingo prizes are the door prizes. At intermission, they draw numbers and if you win, you get to select from an odd assortment of prizes. One time, it was frozen chickens and a ham. All I did was say, “are the chickens USDA grade and does the ham walk home behind your car?” and my DD went nutso. She said between me talking about Osama bin Laden, her grandmother going on and on about balls, people telling us to be quiet, and frozen door prizes, this might be the worst night of her life. When I asked her how she thought I felt, since I had paid for everything and couldn’t even win poultry, she asked how far it would be if she walked home.
Last time we went I attracted the attention of a woman who stared at me for quite some time and then asked me if I would be interested in a free wrinkle cream. When I told her I thought I looked pretty good, since I was 93, she continued to stare at me and then handed me a piece of paper with the website for the cream. I think it was right after she told me the website will ask for my Social Security number and I should just click through that screen that I decided Bingo could be scary and I had better start choosing my table more carefully.
All in all, you can’t get this kind of entertainment in every town, so if you are ever up my way, keep in mind that Wednesday is Bingo night. Just let me know and I will put a wooden tulip on our table and save you a seat.
Comment
Laurie, believe it or not I went through a phase when I was a teenager when I was really in to bingo. I would sneak in because I was underage and would carry my own bingo dabber with my initials printed on it in big sparkly letters. I also had a good luck troll, whose pink hair was burned off because I tested the bunsen burner on it in science class at school (I wanted to know if it was flamable...). I wasn't very popular back then... I had forgotten about all of this until I read your post. Thanks for the trip down memory lane!
Who was it that blogging about nerdy doodle moms? maybe we should start a new group.
F, That card game looks a lot harder than Old Maid :)
Leslie, I almost told one of the giggle sisters that they had Bingo (when she didn't), but I was worried she would scream :) That is so funny about your mom.
Jennifer, The crowd in our town does not like laughing either :)
Sue, I am afraid they will try and make Fudge and Vern door prizes.
Donna, LOL. I don't think they love when we show up either.
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