A few months ago I was sitting around with my friend Jana chatting about our need
to have a party. Really I was whining that I wanted to have a party but couldn't come
up with a decent idea to save my life.
"We ought to play Chicken Sh$% Bingo." She says blithely
And my inner party planner jumped up and started cheering.
You see we have chickens,
I have some plywood and could make a bingo board pretty quickly,
and most importantly said chickens actively participate in the necessary
bodily function needed to play Chicken Sh*# Bingo.
Except it just wasn't enough... What fun is a party without costumes?
The answer to that question is No Fun at All!
A Mother's Day Chicken Sh*# Bingo party would surely clash with our guests schedules for lavishing love and gifts (non excrement related gifts at least) on their mothers.
And really Mother's Day doesn't scream costume.
This left us with Kentucky Derby weekend.
I love hats and hats can definitely be turned into a costume and
so the Kentucky Derby theme was decided.
That is until Hero Husband questioned the compatibility of the
Kentucky Derby and Chicken Sh^@ Bingo.
"Really Mama" he said "Chicken Shi*% Bingo is pretty white trash."
He's a genius I tell you! And so the party with the longest title ever was born
The 1st Annual White Trash
Kentucky Derby Chicken Sh%^ Bingo Party
After everyone had eaten and enjoyed a few mint juleps we (meaning Hero Husband)
wrangled a hen from the coop and explained the rules.
Everyone is given a number,
a human of the female persuasion is required to blow on the chicken's posterior for luck,
and then the chicken is set on the board and left to do her duty.
Important to remember for future rounds of Chicken Sh#% Bingo is
that chickens like to go to sleep when the sun goes down.
The girls were a bit dazed and sleepy.
Everyone cheered for their number encouraging the chicken to find their
spot before allowing a Bingo to be called.
The girls did their jobs and it was decided.
At which point I realized that Hero Husband had conveniently gone missing and I had to wrangle two hens and escort them back to the coop in my black patent leather pumps and feathery derby hat.
Apparently it was a site to see.
T-shirts were handed out to those lucky bingo winners
and for the guest deemed to have the "best" Derby hat.
A party like this is a great way to confirm that our friends are just as strange as we are.
And we can't wait to do it again next year!