i had a gchat recently in which i asked a friend how it feels to be "home" - that is, back at her apartment, with her job and roommates and real life. but i'd asked the same thing a week ago, when i asked her how it felt to be "home" at her parents' house.
hard to say which is which.
at a family and friends gathering, a group of college-y and post-college people started a game of circle of death - a game that i, many of you, and the cashier at a local convenience store all know. it's the game where you pick a card and have to do something, based on the card. and one of the most difficult cards, for everyone, is the one that makes you create a rule for everyone. this group already had to wipe their mouths before they drank, i think. and they weren't allowed to say anyone's name. or whatever.
t: okay, what should the new rule be?
g: oh, here's one my roommate thought up. after every time you drink you have to say [as his mom walks into the room with a plate of cookies] "bitch tits motherfucker."
hm: [speechless, with cookies]
it was one of those moments in which we all COULD have, maybe, warned him that his mom has just come down the stairs. [into the basement, of course. remember the basement, that land of iniquity and secrets?] but it was too close, and happened too fast, and turned out to be too darn funny...
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