"Let's play a game"

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WARNING: This post contains material that some might consider foul.  If you’ve just eaten or are about to eat, I encourage you to bookmark this page and return later.

A few days ago, I went to a local bar after a UNC basketball game.  While there, I was approached by a friend of mine name Jordan (yes, the same Jordan who sent this email to her Sorority listserv).

Jordan: “I’m bored, give me something to do.”
Pomer: “Okay, let’s play a game.”

(She didn’t know that games are one of my specialties.)

Jordan: “Alright, what’s the game?”
Pomer: “It’s simple.  You tell me anything to do and I have to do it, then I  tell you to do something and you have to do it.”
Jordan: (smiling, as if she has a great idea) “Okay… go stand on the outside railing and scream as loud as you can, I LOVE BOBBY FRASOR!!!”
Pomer: “That’s it?”
Jordan: (confused) “Um… yeah.”

As agreed, I stood up on the railing and screamed, “I LOVE YOU BOBBY FRASOR, I DO.  I LOVE YOU!!!”

Dodging strange looks, I returned to Jordan who was very satisfied with herself.

“My turn,” I said.

“I want you to get a chair, walk up to the girl’s bathroom and bang on the door with the chair screaming, ‘I have horrible diarhea! Please let me in! I’ve been pissing crap all day! Please!’”

Horrified but sticking to the deal, Jordan walked over to a table next to the bathroom, grabbed a metal chair, confidentally walked past a line of girls and began banging and screaming.

Compared to the looks Jordan got from the girls in line, the strange looks I got resembled an adoring puppy.

After two minutes of begging, someone let her in.

When she got back, she looked at me frustrated and said, “Wow, that was really embarrassing.”

“Yeah,” I said.  “But are you still bored?”

(Pomer – 1, Jordan – 0)

 

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