So after the events described in yesterday's entry, Meg and Tim joined the fray and we got our Mario Party 2 Drinking Game awn. Tom and Cliffey watched but didn't participate, but for a few practice rounds of Bumper Balls.
Tim complained about a third of the way through the 35 turns that the game didn't get you drunk enough. We told him to hold his criticisms 'til a little further on; he was, after all, winning at this point and as such hadn't had all that many fingers.
He later complained that I wasn't drunk enough - I had invited him and Meg on the proviso that they would witness me inebriated, and I guess he felt he wasn't getting his money's worth. By this point I was in the lead, and he suggested that had we been playing a different game - one where I didn't have the advantage of nearly 10 years' experience - I might be drunkerer. I responded by pointing out that when playing Death for your soul, you don't get to choose the game.
Which seemed profound at the time but in morning's cold light it just seems pompous. And I'm not so up on my mythology so it might not even be accurate.
After the game, when we were all nicely drunk (including Tim, oddly enough), we just sat around and, well, spoke for about four hours on such deep and meaningful subjects as how much we would have to be offered to receive anal sex*.
We also watched Charlie the Unicorn and made jokes about an Italian man's pasta-based death. More on which tomorrow.
Joel.
*We all agreed that it would have to be quite a lot.
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