So the other night my dear friend Tamarie and I spent too long on the phone engaged in a game called Who Would You Rather? You know, that classic girl game of who you would rather sleep with. The problem was that Tamarie was high on prescription cough syrup, and I'd had a couple of G&Ts, so the conversation was a little odd.
Me: Mattress Mac or Marvin Zindler? Tamarie: Marvin Zindler alive? Me: Of course! Tamarie: Very old or just old? Me: Just old. Tamarie: Mattress Mac.
Tamarie: Yao Ming or the dude from C & D Scrap Metal? Me: The son or the father? Tamarie: The father. Me: Yao Ming probably, unless the father paid me in two dollar bills. Tamarie: Slut.
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Me: Dave Ward or Bill White? Tamarie: Bill White! Please. Me: You got no love for Dave Ward? Tamarie: Bill White is the mayor. Me: You have a thing for men and power. Tamarie: True.
Tamarie: The guy from the Hand Center or Dick DeGuerin? Me: Clearly Dick DeGuerin. Tamarie: Why? Me: The guy from the Hand Center gives me the creeps. Don't you think his little girl Sophie should have her master's degree by now? Tamarie: Yeah. Me: Plus, Dick's name. That just says it right there. Dick.
Me: Frank Billingsley or Shern-Min Chow Tamarie: WHAT?! What kind of a choice is that? Me: Just imagine a gun to your head. You must choose one. Tamarie: Uh... Me: Gun's about to go off. Tamarie: Shern-Min...no, Frank. Oh God. Me: You're dead because you couldn't make a choice. Either way you would have gotten action, so I don't know what the problem is.
So what do you think, Houston. Did we make the right choices?