Friday, March 14, 2008

Carrom Night: Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.

Ok, I'm back on antibotics and so is the munchkin. Now granted, our physicians here are very liberal with their distribution of antibiotics. However, this time I think it's warranted. The Munchkin is barking like a seal and my throat is on fire. I like Mr. Beason, P.A., but not so much that I like seeing him as often as I recently have.

I had a brief moment of horror as I stepped onto the scale at the office there. I'm not sure it showed on my face obviously, but I did catch my breath. Of course, I immediately deducted several pounds as I was wearing clothing shoes, socks, and glasses on my head. Something has GOT to be done. I saw a photo of myself in jeans walking recently, and wondered how it's possible for my legs to look so great while (get thee behind me!) the fat that seems to collect in my upper back never goes away. Oh backfat, begone!

Last night there was much hootin' an 'a hollerin' as Hunk O Man got out the Carrom board. Carrom is serious business in our family. It involves a special board that must be treated with a special combination of some seriously disgusting things to make it slick and shiny. Some of these, as I recall, are racoon grease, bacon drippings, vaseline, and possibly snot. I'm not entirely sure -- my father in law concocted this nasty salve and bestowed it upon my husband one Christmas. My Father-in-Law as well as constructed the board. Hunk O Man guards the board and stand and pieces all with his life. He even counts the little carroms to make sure they're all contained on the giant safety-pin type device which was also constructed by father-in-law to keep everything together.

The Carrom Board comes out mostly during holidays, but also occasionally when Hunk O Man wants to get in on some action with the kids. And last night, a special request was made by the Marco Polos (Bunny and JB's posse, from the swim team) for pizza night to be switched to Thursday so the MP's could come over and hang out.

So they did, and as they drooled and fussed and carried on about how they were DYING FROM HUNGER, MOM, WHEN'S THE PIZZA GONNA BE READY??? Hunk O Man occupied them with a not one, but two riveting games of Carrom.

Hunk O Man is definitively The Master of Carrom. However, I think he lost last night to a couple of girls. Not sure, but I believe I heard "STINK!" and "PUKE" and "STINKIN' PUKE" (which can also be construed as STINK AND PUKE if you like) several times during the competition. When I hear this, it usually means The Master is Goin' Down. This, ladies and gents, is the sound of The Carrom Master cussin'.

Since he had a boy for a partner, this was particularly bad. He was beaten by his girls. Ah, the changing of the guard is indeed a difficult transition.

And now the great quandry is what to have for dinner tonight. It's Friday night, and we already had our pizza last night. Uh-oh. A fate worse than losing at Carrom: no pizza for Friday night? Is Jesus in the air? Is the world ending?

I think not. I may impose not one but TWO green vegetables on everyone tonight just to combat the current strep-throat like symptoms going round. That should get a nice moan from everyone, don't you think?