Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Some kittens can fly - parte due (2)

I looked around me upon waking, my prominent brow knitted, when I realized that I was not at the Hôtel George V, but on a large aircraft somewhere in the big blue sky. I immediately felt at ease however, gazing over to my right seeing the winning and winsome mug of my beloved Mr. Moose snoozing and drooling peacefully as the cold Atlantic passed beneath us.

I know I color sometimes when I look at Mr. Moose, I was aware at a very early stage in our relationship that the Cardinals of my very own hormonal Vatican had elected him Pope and I would have to try and suppress the white smoke from escaping through my ears when in public.
I gazed lovingly as the light from the overhead reading lamp made his shampoo commercial hair glisten, his jaw strong as the Reichstag and his nose looking like the mascot on the front of a deco era roadster. Oh, squish.
My lusty glances were thwarted by the visage of a small two year old girl and her mother on there way to Italy themselves. She was wearing the Guida equivalent to haute couture, a very expensive cashmere sweater- (I looked at the label) -topped with a pashmina scarf, a pair of immaculately ripped designer jeans and a copious amount of twenty two carat gold jewelery that perfectly matched her flaxen hair, the little girls mother was wearing something similar.

The Mother was soon joined by Her own mother- the Nonnina- and let me tell you, until that moment I had never seen a track suit made of peau de soie satin, but the puce peau de soie was the perfect foil for Nonnina's peau d' orange skin and her lovingly applied maquillage that was not unlike Elizabeth Taylor's "Who's Afraid of Virgina Wolf?" paint job.
This enchanting trio had taken entire two rows behind me and set up a kiddie play land with little two year old with Little Angela playing with a Disney Princess phone. I predicted her "Prontos" were soon to be joined with the flight attendants "Pregos" and I would finally lose what ambiguous grip I had on reality.
During the endless banter in a mixture of Italian and Brooklynese Little Angela was running around acting up and out and being a typical little beastie.

After Little Angela grabbed my sleeve for the third time causing me to spill my breakfast, a perfectly Lucculan martini- I cast a withering glare at the mother that said corral your brat in any language. The rest of the flight was pretty pedestrian, after we landed I accidentally elbowed past little Angela to get off the plane first. It's not that I hate children but I am with the French on this one- Women with children last.
The movie choices on the plane versus the characters on the plane made me long for a bit of amusement, so I decided to create a drinking game based on
Whos Afraid of Virginia Wolf?_________________________________________________________
I have heard of others hinging binge nights around this movie, so I can’t claim complete originality in the idea. But the game did need some structure. It is in the perhaps vainglorious hope of creating the Official WAOVW? Drinking Game Rules that I essay this humble project.

Each player is assigned a character. There are five characters:
George (Richard Burton),
Martha (Elizabeth Taylor),
The Biologist (George Segal),
Honey (Sandy Dennis),
and George & Martha’s apocryphal child, whom we’ll call
Whenever your character drinks in the film, so must you. (In the case of The Little Bugger, you must drink every time he is referred to in the dialogue.)
The assignment of characters should be random. e.g., a party might have three Martha’s and no Honey’s.
Drink whenever your character drinks,or when (s)he does this…

ALL (Everyone drinks when these things happen.)
Everyone drinks when their character is first introduced onscreen (or — in the case of the kid — mentioned).
Whenever any of the characters sings, “Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf?”
Whenever Richard Burton makes or hands someone a drink.

George (Richard Burton)
“Good, better, best, bested.”
When he shoots Liz Taylor with the umbrella gun.
Drink steadily through the ‘Burgen’ monologue.
When he calls Sandy Dennis “angel boobs” and “monkey nipples.”
“And that’s how you play Get The Guests.”
When he cries on the porch.
Take little sips every time he says, “Snap!”
“Sou-EEEE! Sou-EEE!”

Martha (Elizabeth Taylor)
“I don’t bray!!!”
“Party! Party!”
(to George Segal) “Don’t encourage me!”
“You can stand it! You married me for it!”
Take little sips every time she says, “Snap!” or, “Clink.”
“I am the earth mother and you are all flops.”
“George and Martha. Sad, sad, sad.”
The Biologist (George Segal)
Whenever he flirts with Liz.
Whenever it is said that he works in the math or history department.
When Liz says, “Right at the meat of things,” into his crotch.
“Plow some pertinent wives.” — when he says or does this.
Whenever his impotence is implied.
Whenever he is called ‘houseboy’.
Honey (Sandy Dennis)
Whenever she says the word ‘brandy’.
“Never mix, never worry.” / “I never mix.”
“I’d like another little nipper of brandy please!”
“I’m gonna be sick!”
“I dance like the wind.”
“Violence! Violence!”
“Hump the hostess!”
Take little sips every time she says ‘bells’.
“I want my husband! I want a drink! I want something!”
The bunny hop.
“Peel the lable!”

The Little Bugger
Drink every time George & Martha’s child is referred to.
Don’t think you’re getting off easy if you’re playing this character.

The winner of the game is the person who can sing “Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf, Virginia Woolf, Virginia Woolf? Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf so early in the morning…” five times- in Italian- without passing out or "Un-swallowing"- before the end credits finish rolling!
Bon Voyage!

No comments:

Blog Archive

About Me

My photo
zeitgeist, particular friend, perky libertine, animated trickster, iconoclast, rabble-rouser, object of worship, provocateur, capricious damp enchantress, idiosyncratic beloved reptile, whimsical saucy booze hound, bellwether, luminary, stoic, pensive illicit paramour, aloof, engaged, intuitive, curious, perplexing deranged mastermind, passionate, lasciviously adored offspring, amorous, sultry flamboyant charioteer, scholar, scribe, exalted thespian, voracious, considerable chieftain, impaired, cynical colleague, dreamer, procrastinator, loathsome glutton, artist, oppressed peasant, dainty heathen, narcissist, self-loathing...renaissance man