Visiting me is like a fast pass trip in a time machine -- you go back to your teenage eating habits (why oh why the cinnamon rolls, chips and cookies?), you flash ahead to your geriatric bedtimes (10 p.m., and sometimes we only made it to 10 because we were too tired to brush our teeth) and then you shoot all the way to some old school elementary fortune-telling games.
That's right, my friends -- Sam and I played MASH!
(We would have played that one game with the folded paper thing that you write stuff and do the stuff with, but I didn't know how to fold the thing in fifth grade and I sure don't know how to fold the thing now.)
I remember a lot of MASH in my elementary school years (MASH, for you grownups, young'uns and boys, stands for Mansion Apartment Shack House. The type of dwelling you will have is just one of the few key pieces of your future this highly scientific device will tell you. Skeptical? Wait and see.
We started with Sam. If you ever played MASH, you'll notice some familiar categories and some, um, more unusual questions. I couldn't remember what the regular questions were, so I added things like how you're going to die. I strongly recommend it.
Yes, you read that right. Sam marries Josh Groban (squee!), they have six kids and a dog, they live in an apartment in Texas and drive a Jeep, Josh inexplicably gives up his music career to be CEO of Financial Corp., Sam is a national park ranger, which makes perfect sense except all the national parks in Texas are not really close to where a CEO would need to be (sadly, neither are private dancers); they met at a club, they win the lottery, Josh then gives up his job to go to war (he's in need of a career counselor, that one) and Sam dies in a spaceship crash.
What?!? Don't worry, that'll make more sense in a minute. Let's first take a moment of silence to give thanks that the worst thing that happens to Sam is just that her husband goes to war, not that she gets *gasp* cankles.
I, as notice, marry Matthew Perry, we have 17 little Chandlers (this is why you shouldn't be sarcastic with the future-seeing game, children), Rufus comes to live with us in our apartment in Germany, where we drive a BMW because hello? It's Germany and that is what you do. My profession is trophy wife, Mattie (my pet name for him) is a male model (funny-raised eyebrows given my other three choices? Quit knocking my future husband. Also, I never said what kind of model.) We meet when I ask him for an autograph (on my tushie, as someone did to Sir Paul last weekend, but Sam is too proper to write down that detail for posterity.) We move to the moon (understand now how Sam dies?), my city collapses (I was going to found a city) and then my husband shoots me to death. I have a sneaking suspicion it's because we live in an apartment with 17 children.
I know what you're thinking -- why haven't I been playing this game all my life? I can't answer that, but it's not too late to start playing now. Go forth, caterpillars, and become butterflies.