Quiz FAIL

As Rick can attest to, I heart quiz nights. They are cheese to my French bread, peanut butter to my jelly, lube to my…whatever. I only discovered them a few years ago in Australia, because we generally don’t have pub quiz nights in Canada. Canadians much prefer bingo, which I used to enjoy until a series terrifying experiences at a fundraiser put me off any bingo playing for the rest of my natural life (but what happens in the seventh circle of hell stays in the seventh circle of hell…mother fucking B13!!).

I went to a quiz night last Wednesday at, what appears to be, the only quiz night in Vancouver, British Columbia, and possibly even Canada. I’ve been attempting to get into this quiz night for a few weeks, but it’s impossible to get a table unless you:
a) put out,
b) know people that know people,
c) can give really, really good head,
d) show up approximately four hours before it starts because, natch, they don’t accept reservations.

Hodge, being a Grade A Champion, headed out verrrry early (almost boxing day shopping early…he camped out there the night before…true story) and sat by himself, quietly getting pissed in the corner and holding onto a table for our group with grit and determination usually only demonstrated by drag queens and their wigs.

Our group was small since we’d had so many false starts and hadn’t yet managed to, you know, be quizzed, so no one had the faith anymore and stayed in biting their nails, washing their hair and individually plucking out arm hairs because, obviously, that’s more fun than a night out with me. When I’m disappointed. Again.

But, our small group was solid. Me, who knows everything about anything, as long as it’s obscure and relates only to the reproductive habits of fruit flies. Hodge, who’s pretty damn clever for all his modesty, not to mention is musically sound for all those annoying music questions (as an aside, I have to say that hours of beer swilling did not improve his knowledge about, well, anything in general) and Bill Nye, the science geek, who holds no less than two masters degrees and one doctorate that are from actual and real universities, ::not:: from a college in the Caribbean.

I thought our group was pretty solid, knowledge wise. Bases covered…animal, mineral and vegetable, so to speak. Not to mention that I’d had a particularly trying day at the office and was just glad to be out, with people that I genuinely like*.

However, we very much came in last place. The first round was something to the tune of Us: 13, Everyone Else: 452. Yes, it was really that bad. And it didn’t get any better in the later rounds, in fact it got worse. The compere didn’t even read our final score because it was so unsettling to him. He didn’t think it was possible. We have undermined his faith in ::ahem:: intelligent people.

So, the only thing that we won that night was a two hundred dollar bill and a stab in the ol’ self esteem (located painfully below the right kidney).

That being said, I can't wait to get my ass handed back to me (again) this week. I've been studying up on random factoids, like, did you know that a piece of gum, when swallowed stays in your body for seven years?? Mmmhmm...And then I got distracted by this...which has been haunting me for the last two days. Why would you do that??

One of the (many) questions that unglued us:

What do kangaroos, anteaters and seahorses have in common? Answer me that smart people of the great unknown– and remember, there is no internet fact checking allowed, which leaves me a limp and quivering disaster. Apparently.

Good luck to ya,

-Anna Bananas for brains

*Right, have I got some tales for you. It has to do with a colleague of mine who I refer to as The Mumbler. He shall get his own post when I can stop rocking in the corner long enough to face the horror that is him.