the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2
Before the internet, before well-defined trolls were called trolls, there were the old school cool original gamers. Card playing, dominoes, and board games of all sorts were played. Friends and/or family gathered around dining room tables on cold winter nights, summer evenings and weekends. These were a far cry from MMORPGs (Massive Multi-player role playing games, First Person Shooters and Candy Crush games of today. These gamer roots permeate my family.
I grew up playing card games like crazy 8, go fish, war, slap jack, oh hell, spite and malice, hearts, spades and cribbage. I can remember my grandpa R. teaching to play cribbage at 9. He’d lean over and between nose whistles, as I played grandma, offered to advice on what to throw in the crib and how to count scores. Scrabble was my quest and the bane of my game playing life until college. Mom taught me how to play and I didn’t beat her until my Freshman year of college. Eight years of losses culminating into that one fucking glorious win. Now, we are play about even on wins and close games are my favorite. There is absolutely nothing better than making tiny little words across and down at the same time.
Recently, dominoes and Hand and Foot are the games of choice with my parents at family gatherings. We actually keep track on a YEARLY basis who won the most games. Yep, that competitive. This holiday weekend is no exception. Trash talking started on our way down to the lake and continued throughout this weekend. You see, we have been trolls as long as our family have planted their asses down to play. Our trolling is not malicious, it is personal and in your face. Yep, we take credit for it. There is no anonymous hiding behind a computer screen. So trolled and heckled you will be if you are ahead of the 3 other people on Train dominoes. Whining when you haven’t won at all is tolerated… of course, to a point. We’re crass-finger-flipping-farting-cussing players who keep the game on the ‘good sport’ side, just barely. Loud laughter abounds. A great way to spend some time face-to-face instead of front of a TV.
And, here and there are moments to remember. Tonight, my 76 year old mom, after clarifying it was word was ‘funky,’ not ‘fucking’ she heard my dear hubby say, sang Wild Cherry’s, “That Funky Music,” chorus.
Best score of the night.
Lay down the boogie,