Bingo!

I never really liked Bingo when I was a kid. I had some sort of a Bingo game – something with cardboard Bingo cards and little cardboard discs to cover numbers. I only vaguely remember it and I think you called numbers by turning over a little cardboard tile. Boring.

I may have also had one of those much cooler car versions where you slide a little sheet of colored plastic across the numbers, though maybe I only had some version where you covered a picture of a cow, or a flag or something – as you drove along on your trip.

I might have liked Bingo better if I’d had a cool tumbler with little balls or disks. I like those tumbler thingies. I also prefer to be the caller rather than the card player. I like control and who has more control in a Bingo game than the caller?

I’ve never played Bingo as an adult – not even with my kids. I’ve never been to a Bingo parlor or to a church or school with Bingo players. I’ve never really understood the attraction.

So why in the hell am I playing Bingo on Facebook – every single day?

The answer is… I have no damn idea.

Or maybe I do – I’m a sucker for mothers. That’s why I’ve logged into Farmville or Frontierworld or CafeHoleintheWall or Cityscape or whatever the heck those Zynga games are called … pretty much every single day for a year. My mother made me do it.

This Bingo thing, it’s all @Sassymonkey’s mother’s fault. Yea. I’m playing Bingo for her mother – even @Sassymonkey isn’t playing Bingo for her own mother. I am a SUCKER for mothers.

Gah. Where is the 46 again? Is that “N” or “G”? Math is hard and so is Bingo, damn it.

Posted via email from Life. Flow. Fluctuate.