The Couch.
Yeah, it's a fixture in every household across the entire country. Everyone has one, but I dare you to look through, or even under it. If you're not afraid of looking under the couch, then you're probably one of those freaks that has their life in perfect harmony, shops at Pottery Barn and doesn't have a closet full of unpaid bills and unopened credit card applications that are going to chew up a Saturday afternoon to shred. Or perhaps you're homeless. Sorry.
An interesting drinking game that I wish I'd come up with 20 years ago would be called "Drink or Couch". The rules would be simple. On each player's turn, they either drink a shot of Jager or they have to eat one thing found randomly from, in or under the couch. The outcome would be apocalyptic, but generally amusing for the bystanders. Plus, you'd probably find your long lost remote control, or a dead hooker. Either way, you have a story for the water cooler on Monday.
All of this came up due to my recent quest for a missing part to one of my oldest son's toys. The toy and the massive waste of time created searching for it are material for another post. All in good time. I swear to God, I could cure cancer if I only had the time back I've spent looking for toys. I'm digressing but I just can't let it go.
Anyway, back to the couch. On a hunch that the missing part might be under the couch, I moved it only to wish that I had chosen to go fishing for the mystery wad that was clogging up the upstairs bathroom sink instead. There were at least 50 different pieces of toys interspersed with all types of left over trash, food bits and, I believe, at least one cat turd. Don't believe me? Look at the picture. I swear to God, the kids are saving this stuff for the winter or some toyless time in the future that is surely going to come after I stroke out following a peek under the fridge.
Yeah, it's a fixture in every household across the entire country. Everyone has one, but I dare you to look through, or even under it. If you're not afraid of looking under the couch, then you're probably one of those freaks that has their life in perfect harmony, shops at Pottery Barn and doesn't have a closet full of unpaid bills and unopened credit card applications that are going to chew up a Saturday afternoon to shred. Or perhaps you're homeless. Sorry.
An interesting drinking game that I wish I'd come up with 20 years ago would be called "Drink or Couch". The rules would be simple. On each player's turn, they either drink a shot of Jager or they have to eat one thing found randomly from, in or under the couch. The outcome would be apocalyptic, but generally amusing for the bystanders. Plus, you'd probably find your long lost remote control, or a dead hooker. Either way, you have a story for the water cooler on Monday.
All of this came up due to my recent quest for a missing part to one of my oldest son's toys. The toy and the massive waste of time created searching for it are material for another post. All in good time. I swear to God, I could cure cancer if I only had the time back I've spent looking for toys. I'm digressing but I just can't let it go.
Anyway, back to the couch. On a hunch that the missing part might be under the couch, I moved it only to wish that I had chosen to go fishing for the mystery wad that was clogging up the upstairs bathroom sink instead. There were at least 50 different pieces of toys interspersed with all types of left over trash, food bits and, I believe, at least one cat turd. Don't believe me? Look at the picture. I swear to God, the kids are saving this stuff for the winter or some toyless time in the future that is surely going to come after I stroke out following a peek under the fridge.
I moved the couch back. All of that is still there. Wanna see it first hand? The price of admission is a sixpack.
Next: The Gallbladder.
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