This weekend brought yet another devastating blow to our population as a whole (not to mention the resurgence of the Blue Eyeshadow Movement). Can't you just see it now? All the Monday-morning water cooler tales of "where were you when Tammy Faye died"? It'll be this generation's Columbia or JFK jr. disaster! Personally, my answer to the upcoming big Evangelista in the sky question will be this:
Indeed, I was wearing a paper nametag and yelling bingo numbers into a room of people whose cumulative ages totalled 505 years; that's right, five people showed up to our building's game night! Ok but I'm serious. Five. And they didn't like each other much. This one lady had a BINGO three separate times and couldn't even see it. I mean, literally, see it. Felt bad for her until she and Euince* nearly came to blows over an errant dime. Seriously. A dime (as in ten cents) was missing from the bingo pot and the accusations flew like fruit flies like a banana.
*names have been changed to protect the deranged elderly.
Unlike the Squishee photo, the above is an actual image captured of my uproariously wild Saturday night. It might not look like much to you, and we certainly didn't raise the funds we were seeking (not a single one of the cheapskate attendees purchased a single soda, wine, or beer even though we were charging a reasonable fifty-cents per beverage) but let me tell you something mister, once those ladies finished off their first (free) glass of ecstasy infused ice-waters, they were off to the races! There was no containing them. Honestly, I wouldn't even know where to begin the retelling.
So here's to you, Tammy Faye! I will never again be able to eat out of a garbage lid without thinking of you and your unwavering dedication to a purloined life of illusion.