My quest for Jenga...

Every Tuesday night, me and my friend head out to challenge out hearts and minds and play us some bingo... well, “punk rock bingo” as it is officially called. Our first time there I was scanning the selection of prizes and came across what I was certain was about to be the best thing I could ever own…Jenga.

And I’ll bet you’re wondering, “why Jenga, Nicole?” Well I’m so glad you asked! See, I have a tremor in my hands. They shake involuntarily at most given times, and I can neither help it nor stop it. The shaking is heightened with stress and nerves, and surprisingly diminishes when I consume alcohol. So let me just set the stage for you. Let’s pretend that you and I are playing a game of Jenga. It takes a finite skill and persition to pull out those tiny block things without knocking the whole fucking thing down. Now imaging me, with an incredibly unstable hand venturing toward the tower to attempt to pull out a Jenga piece. You see it? That’s a major fucking fail. I would never win. And even if I drank to prevent my tremor, that would no longer help me because I’d be so distracted by being intoxicated that I’d probably forget what was happening or pass out face first onto the game.

Now I’m sure you’re thinking that this is fucking ridiculous…Why own a game you’d never win? Well, because it would be hilarious. I’d never have to be competitive because I would just lose. And then anyone playing with me would feel so good about themselves because they would always beat me! All I can see is a wonderful, win-win situation.

Anyways, we’re getting off topic here…

Earlier this week, we ventured out once again to play us some bingo. I usually walk in the bar with high hopes of taking home the big prize, however, 100% of the time I leave with a frown on my face, and ache in my heart and no Jenga in my hands. We went up to purchase our bingo cards and bantered a bit with the host, we’ll call him Steve, who is also aware of my insane quest for a game I’ll never win. We grabbed our dobbers and sat down... If only I knew then how the night was about to unfold.

We began round 1…
No luck.
No bingo.
Still no Jenga…

We were feeling a little discouraged at this point, like we do every week, but figured we’d stick around for another round, because, well, we just had to.

On to round 2…

It’s black out bingo round. If you’re not familiar, you basically have to dobber every last one of the numbers in your square in order to win.

I’m one number away from blacking out all my squares….

Because I’m an extreme pessimist I though to myself, “here we go again…this will probably just end in disappointment...”

Then Steve yells out, “WHO NEEDS A G FOR THE WIN?”

I look down…

I needed a fucking G…

He then proceeds to yell, “52!!!!!!!!!!!”

I look down.

HOLY MOTHER MARY SON OF GOD!

BINGOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

I stood up and yelled with ever ounce of my being…but I was too fucking slow.

Apparently some dude at the table near us had called bingo a fucking millisecond before me.

Luckily, in fairness, Steve decided that we needed to have a best out of three rock, paper, scissor-off in order to determine who would go home with a big prize, and who would go home with a weeny consolation prize and a shattered ego.

There I was. So. Fucking. Close. I could just taste those fucking little wood blocks…

On a side note, the guy that I was up against was a dreamboat. We’d been commenting on his insane man beauty all night.

That’s not really relevant though....back to the story.

First round of rock-paper-scissors: he wins…

Second round: I take the cake…

It all comes down to this….

Are you ready??

Like, are you seriously fucking ready? Because I’m about to blow your fucking mind.

He picks rock… and I pick fucking scissors.

FUCK!

But just wait, it gets much more devastating. Like we’re talking The Notebook fucking devastating.

There are about 64 prizes to be won at bingo, and what fucking prize does the pretty man decide to take???

FUCKING JENGA!!

It was slow motion... I yelped out and had to use all my strength to keep me from falling to the ground in desperation...

“NOOOOOOO, please don’t take Jenga!!!” It was like I’d lost a loved one in battle.

This would go down as one of the top 14 saddest moments in my entire life.

After I got off stage I ran up to the beautiful man and told him how he’d just ruined my entire life, and how Jenga had been the bane of my existence for a solid 7 weeks. I even went on to tell him about my tremor and the hilarity that would ensue from playing a round with me. He laughed pitifully and then proceeded to tell me that he’d go smoke but maybe he would come back and “we could find a way to trade.” Surrrrrrrrre.

I told him that it was cool, and that he’d won fair and square. He was probably just saying that because he thought I was going to go home and cut myself whilst thinking about him merrily playing Jenga.

And you know what the real kicker is… When we initially sat down at our regular table, we noticed a group of people crowding around a small table beside us, and I, as the wonderfully kind person I am, offered up our section to them as it was bigger and had more room. They were grateful, and I smiled, and said it was cool, but then warned them sternly, “You can have this table, but you CANNOT take Jenga if you win!” They thought I was joking, of course, so they laughed it off and sat down….and guess who was sitting at that table…

DING DING DING!
YOU FUCKING GOT IT… attractive man that stole my dignity and my prize. I fucking warned them! Well, in all fairness I think he came after that incident, so I guess he was kind of innocent…however, it's still an annoying coincidence I needed to point out.

So that’s that. Can you even fucking believe it?? Because I certainly cannot. No one wanted Jenga for the 7 fucking weeks I’d been going, and then when I FINALLY get a goddamn bingo, the one person that wins with me wants the EXACT same prize I want. I’m a seriously unlucky individual.

In consolation I got a gift certificate to Tubby dog…. So I guess I’ll just go and drown my sorrows in some gourmet wieners.