Eff, Marry, Kill

For the first time in like a gazillion years, I had zero responsibilities on a Saturday night.  I'm out of town for an educators' conference.  With some coworkers who happen to also be friends.  And young.  In addition, I'm apparently blind to the fact that I'm pushing far-too-old-to-be-up-past-nine.  Consequently, we did the only natural thing to do on a Saturday night.  We hit the club.

*yawn*  It was so effin' boring!  Clubbers are boring people who smoke too much.  Seriously!  I mean, I had fun with the girls, but we could have camped out at the hotel in our pjs and had just as much fun.  Instead, we spent far too much money to have a boring ass time with some lame barflies destined for lung cancer.  The highlight of our night?  FMK.

In the third and final club of boring, weird people, we decided to dabble in a little game of eff, marry, kill.  If you've not ever played, you should.  It's simple and requires no props.  Just the names of people everyone playing knows.  A player picks three people from the pool - one you have to eff, one you have to marry, and one you have to kill.  For example, I say Rush Limbaugh, Donald Trump, and O.J. Simpson then you rank them.  Go ahead; I'll wait. 

Now it's your turn.  Brad Pitt, Vince Vaughn, and Usher?  Damn, that's a hard one. 

Seriously, though, it can get intense.  And very twisted.  Without mentioning any names, I'm afraid there are several folks I work with that I may not be able to look at ever again.  'Nuff said.