Me Too!

You know it's been a great party when the guests start eagerly swapping hangover remedies as they collect their potluck dishes, sling purses over their shoulders & head out the door.

Obviously, with potluck dishes in play, it wasn't a FratHaus kind of shindig. It was much, much worse better than that. I'm talking 17 HausFrauen, potluck food & two varieties of spiked slushes.

Yep, my friends, I scored an invite with the in crowd to sub at a Bunco game this past Friday night.

Let me tell you. It was the best entertainment that 5 Euros buy can anywhere.

Hands down.

And, it had nothing to do with the dice game.

It really didn't have anything to do with the alcohol either. Again, we aren't exactly the college aged crowd where it's all about the booze. Although, I do think a fellow HausFrau colleague of mine might have regretted slurping down three bourbon slushes.

Why three bourbon slushes, you might ask? Well, for starters, the vodka slushes were off limits because this particular HausFrau had a previous bad experience with vodka. So that left bourbon as the only viable option. Why three? Well, because she ended up hurling before she could make it to four they were so darn good.

Now, I have guilt.

Major guilt.

Not only because I brought the vodka slush, my HausFrau Red Rooster, which forced her to gravitate toward the bourbon. But mostly because at the time, I was unaware of this British Medical Journal study citing that bourbon is twice as likely to cause hangovers as vodka.

Being all science geeky with the degree to prove it, I should have known about this credible scientific fact but I tend to get hangovers from wine, mimosas & sangria & warned her ahead of time. Sorry WhiskeyChick NamelessHausFrauFriend, but next time, we'll both know better.

Thankfully now, all three of my readers know about vodka vs. bourbon - just in time for the upcoming holiday season. Stick with the Red Roosters & Screwdrivers. Another public service announcement brought to you by the SavvyHausFrau.

If not the booze, the food, excellent HausFrau camaraderie, or the dice, then just what was so fascinating about Bunco night?

Well, let me tell you. The HausFrauHostessWithTheMostest threatened to take away the bourbon slush if we didn't cooperate requested that we all write down something blackmail-worthy a little known & interesting fact about ourselves on a secret slip of paper. The group was then to guess who wrote down what.

How much fun would this be?!

Oh, let me count the ways!

Oh, the choices! Oh, the decision to be made! I've got over twenty twenty-five thirty-five & I won't admit to any more than that thirty years of intriguing life events from which to chose.

Of all the interesting & little know facts about HausFrau I decided to just unload one that is always good for a laugh or two & might possibly win me the "best secret" award. Not so sure it would ever get me invited back to a Bunco game, but for the sake of a laugh or two, I was willing to risk it.

What secret did I tell? Here's a hint: it has nothing to do with a tampon, been there, blogged that, not a secret anymore. Here's another hint: When I tell what happened, not one person has ever responded with a Me Too!

My friend WonderWoman (Hi, Heather!) told me about Me Too! friends. A Me Too! friend can appropriately hold up their end of this conservation:

Oh, I just love Desperate Housewives. Karen McCluskey is my hero.

Me Too!

You know, red wine is my favorite.

Me Too!

I just love German food.

Me Too!

German Christmas Markets are one of my favorite things ever.

Me Too!

I think Jack Bauer is so hot.

Me Too!

Uh, I accidentally visited a nudist colony one time.

Wha . . . huh?

See? No one ever says Me Too! to that one.

So, the Bunco group voted on the most scandalous best secret of the night & I definitely landed in the top two. The other top contender was a Bunco player who once upon a time modeled a WonderBra for a local department store. Ok, that sounded all juicy, but the rest of the story included clothes on top of said foundational garment. Even though her boobs appeared on the 6 o'clock news, they were fully covered.

So while I thoroughly enjoyed all the secret stories about Christian attitude awards in Junior High (SisterChristian), rubbing shoulders with Al Gore (MotherTheresa) and winning medals at the Junior Olympics (MaryLou), I just can't compete on that level. Nor could I even come close to adding an enthusiastic Me Too!

I'm definitely on the path-less-traveled with my unintentional happening upon naked redneck dude. OK, in his defense, he was on private property and he wasn't exactly what we in Texas would call completely butt-naked. After all, he was wearing his 10-gallon cowboy hat, striped tube socks (circa 1972) and black kicker boots.

Holy Cowboy Boots, Batman! I'm getting the heeby-jeeby, creepy-crawly shoulder shudders just reliving visualising thinking about that.

And, all three of HausFrau's readers respond in unison,

Me Too!