“I was going to write a blog about drinking games you can play with the State of the Union,” I told Vicky today as we watched the pre-game show before Shrub took the podium. I doubted I’d make it for very long. And then, I turned off the television.
But Vicky had other ideas. “Come on! Let’s do that!”
“Pardon?” I asked her, the way you’d ask a mailman who offered, “Would you like fries with that?”
She turned on the television. “Let’s play! It’ll be fun!”
Now, I’m no one to refuse Vicky and when it comes to getting her drunk and the possibilities that arise from that, well, I’m less than no one. I had the rum out and she got the shot glasses.
“Okay, when do we drink?”
“Whenever he says terrorism or refers to 9/11,” I suggested.
“Or when he says Iran or troops,” Vicky added.
“Or when he says freedom.”
Excitedly, she finished our list with, “Or if he says augmentation.”
So, we had our list.
What we didn’t realize was just how many times he’d say those things. We couldn’t pour shots fast enough. We started missing shot. We had started taking a shot at any mention of terrorists but eventually waited for the exact use of terrorism. Our shots got smaller and smaller as Vicky got drunker and drunker.
She started leaning. Then, she held herself up on the counter. (For some reason, we did this all standing up.) Then, she started dancing and getting, well, silly. Eventually, she got completely out-of-control, blotto and I had to put her to bed.
And Shrub never said augmentation.