Posts Tagged ‘Drunco’

A Girl Can Dream

Saturday, January 30th, 2010

I’ve written about Bunco, already. I was skeptical at first about a bunch of suburban women sitting around throwing dice and drinking wine, visions of 1950s Bridge Clubs, cucumber sandwiches and petit-fours in my head, but I love my Bunco group.

We had Bunco last night. It is usually on a Thursday, but this month, we had it on Friday. I think we all knew that would be both a good and bad thing, in the vein of “it seemed like a good idea at the time to finish off the bottle.” There is something scary about 20 women getting together without husbands or kids for drinking on a Friday night, with few Saturday obligations. (Jenn and Megan, i am so sorry about those ill-timed birthday parties and Math Bowls!) It is even scarier when half of them are dressed in 1980s workout gear.

Tara wins for creativity. Quite a feat to show up pregnant with twins, unable to drink, but wearing a Lakers outfit with matching high-heeled Converse kicks. The Converse, found for $3.99 at Value Village, were the hit of the party, and I am not sure who they ended up going home with after we all tried them on, but somewhere in my neighborhood, there is a husband (or a Kathy, perhaps?) who last night probably thought, “Aw, yeah! What do we have here?” and then quickly found him or herself clutching the covers, sucking a thumb, wondering when, oh when, it would be over.

Our hostess, Stacy H., managed to dig her original 80s dance clothes out of her attic, including some crazy knit bodysuit, and even more amazingly fit into them. I would be terrified if anyone tried to fit me into something, anything, i wore in high school. Shiny headbands, leg warmers, and off-the-shoulder Flashdance sweatshirts were de rigueur.

And then there were those of us who just showed up in our sweats and tees, there for the booze and the dice.

The wine was flowing freely (and I am thanking god today that I chose to bring beer last night), and we got started rolling late, so by the time we were done with three rounds, we were well in our cups. I know that everyone thinks i mean tipsy, but people who are a little tipsy don’t accidentally lock themselves in their neighbor’s bathroom, unable to get out. Twice. Wine glasses were smashed, and music was cranked up. Of course, I am kind of a music snob, and I had never heard half of the songs because I don’t listen to 95.5 The Beat (Lisa, you would be in your element, here), but it really doesn’t matter, because I am missing the dancing gene anyways. The one that makes women get tipsy and dance with each other? It just doesn’t come naturally to me. These girls? They got the gene.

So, instead, i enjoyed watching them do the Beyonce dances, while drinking beer with Lauren (she danced a bit, but evidently does not quite have the gene either) and Stacy’s husband Mike, who oddly enough, went to my high school. Mike had hit the mother lode, as he had a bunch of drunk women dancing for him in his living room. We ladies also may or may not have broken things and then made Mike clean them up, taking pictures of him when he bent over to sweep up the glass, but that part is a little fuzzy.

A good time was had by all, and i rolled into bed at almost 3.

Did i mention the food was great? Lots of great Weight Watcher’s choices. I managed to stay within my extra points for the week, which is a bit of a miracle. I just can’t eat anything else until Monday morning. But I will have no trouble abstaining, now that I know there is a chance I could really work hard and take care of my body, and do a lot of that “She’s a Maniac” dance step, and someday get a slot in the lineup of the Bunco Hos Solid Gold Dance Revue. . . someday.

A girl can dream.

Drunco is Good For the Soul

Friday, April 24th, 2009

So, one of my favorite things about my new neighborhood is the Bunco (Drunco) group. About a month after I moved in, my neighbor Lauren invited me to sub for her Bunco group. I had heard about Bunco, but never played. I thought it was some stupid game that suburban moms play, a kind of modern-day Bridge club.

And it is. And now I know that my mom was having a damn good time at Bridge club!

It is a blast. You put in your ten bucks. You play a dice game as mindless as Three Man, during which you discuss how much you hate your kids’ teacher, how weird that one family down the street is, the naked guy who was hanging out in the local park, and a number of other subjects not appropriate for public consumption. They feed you appetizers and all the beer and wine you can drink. At the end, the winner is a winner and the loser is a winner, too! You stumble back down the block to your house. You are back in your bed by midnight on a school night. (At least, if you want to be. There were still a good number of folks hanging out when i left at Midnight!) Last night, we even all wore our PJs!

Most of all, you get to talk to an awesome and very diverse group of women, all of whom remind you that we are all just winging it, some seemingly more together than others, but winging it just the same. You realize that you are not alone in doing the hardest job in the world.

Added plus? One of my neighbors is the brother of my childhood friend, Leigh. His wife was hostessing, so Leigh was there, and I got to hang out with her, without kids, for the first time in. . . I cannot remember the last time I saw her without kids around. In PJs, no less.