Roxy Realizes True Identity: Finn’s My Dad!

I can safely say that at least once or twice a week someone asks me
how old I am. Never does a bartender hand me a drink without
meticulously scouring my ID for any sign of alteration. “Yes,” I always
say, “I know I look young.” Not too long ago a woman yelled at me from
the side of the road exclaiming, “You’re too young to drive!” Some may
say this is a quality to be grateful for, but after years of having to
prove that I am, in fact, an adult, I’m kind of over it. That was, until
today.

Finn and I have a game tomorrow in the lovely city of Dallas. Our flight
was this morning at the perfect hour of 10:40am. Nothing beats a flight
that allows for a normal night of sleep and gets you to your
destination before all of the restaurants have closed for the evening.
Like any normal traveler, we checked in and then made our way to the
ginormous security line. I opted to not use my Clear Pass because I am
just that nice and didn’t want Finn to stand in line alone. Thank god I
did because the interaction we had with the TSA regulator was well worth
it.

Upon reaching the front of the line, I handed my ID and boarding pass to
the little, middle-aged man who was checking them carefully. He peeked
at my ID and handed it back, and then reached for Finn’s and took a look
at it. After supposedly reading the names and supposedly
matching the IDs and the boarding passes, he looked at Finn and asked
innocently, “Is that your daughter?” This was followed by hysterical
laughter and no answer from either Finn or me.

I mean, come on! Not only do we have entirely different names, but our
coloring is stark opposite. Finn is blond with blue eyes (See Figure A).
I have brown hair and hazel eyes (See Figure B). We couldn’t be more
different. AND, we are CLEARLY not that far apart in age. I guess if the
man thought Finn was way older than he is and I way younger, it could
have been plausible, but it was a giant stretch.

After laughing it off, we decided that we should just go with it. I have
since been calling Finn “Dad” and I have been deemed “Pumpkin.” We
purposefully have been using these titles as much as possible to get
reactions out of people. So far, no one is noticing. The flight
attendant paid zero attention to my complaint about Dad embarrassing me,
and the dude at reception didn’t even flinch when Finn said he was
disappointed that I didn’t keep the last name “Kelly” and instead took
my scummy rehab-bound husband’s last name. Our next plan is for Finn to
start the introduction to our game by saying, “I’m Finn and this is my
daughter, Roxy.” Surely we’ll get some looks and hopefully some
noteworthy commentary. Or not. At least we’re entertaining ourselves.

Figure A:

Figure B:

    The death of freedom, the beginning of honey do’s

    So it’s the beginning of wedding season, which to some is the death
    of freedom, but to others it’s the best day of their lives, and to the
    rest of us it’s a free night of drinking and possibly bad decisions.
    Either way the “Honey do’s” are coming…. For those of you that don’t
    know, just think, “Honey do this… honey do that…” you get the picture.

    Anyways, I’ve already been to 2 weddings this year, one of them just
    last weekend. I’m also proud to say that I didn’t black out at either
    wedding.

    Dignity: 2 Wedding drunk: 0*

    I think the most exciting part of this last wedding only happened inside
    of my head though. The maid of honor at this particular wedding was
    about 8 and a half months pregnant and I couldn’t stop imagining some
    sort of emergency labor happening the whole time. Obviously the bride in
    this situation would be happy for her sister having her child but at
    the same time I could see deep down that she was pissed off for being
    upstaged at her own wedding. I mean, you waited 9 months; you could have
    at least waited another hour for the ceremony to be over. But such is
    the way with those inconsiderate newborns, smart parents will start
    making their kids work for their keep
    at an early age.

    Anyways, while I’ll be the first to admit that The Go Game probably
    isn’t the best at actual weddings, (though I really think jump rope at a
    wedding would be awesome) we are pretty good at other wedding related
    events. We’ve done our fair share of bachelor/bachelorette parties,
    we’ve even written some wedding proposal missions where someone popped
    the BIG question. So that brings me to great bachelor/wedding/marriage moments in Go Game History:

    THE Question:

    Go Game Engagement from Kevin Cheng on Vimeo.

    The tall pour!

    Worship the mistress’s boot

    I hope they were hammered at this point.

    *Only this years stats reported for the author’s dignity’s sake

      Social networking sites are ruining my nights out.

      Is it just me or do people spend more time when they go out
      documenting the night then actually enjoying the night these days? Okay…
      now I’ll admit that I’m terrible at documenting things that I should.
      For example, I went out to Hawaii to see my brand new niece not very
      long ago and came home with zero pictures…. But that’s beside the point.
      . . The whole time I was there I was thinking, “My sister is taking
      pictures, I’ll just ask her to send them to me.”

      But anyways, I swear that every time I go out these days people spend
      half of the time posing for pictures, or looking at the pictures they
      just took than actually talking or having fun. Last weekend I went out
      to a bar with a friend and quite frankly, I had a horrible time. Instead
      of actually having a conversation with my friend she spent the half of
      the time photo-documenting the evening. Granted, when I look at her
      facebook page it looks like we had a wonderful evening because everyone
      is all smiles but the pictures didn’t document the fact that half of the
      time we spent was posing for pictures or looking at them. I guess I’m
      not vain enough to enjoy looking at pictures of myself from 5 minutes
      before. I was there. It was 5 minutes ago. I don’t need to re-live the
      memory quite yet.

      While I’m at it, whatever happened to the common courtesy of talking to
      the people you are out with too? Why do people invite other people out
      and then spend a lot of time on their phones drunk
      texting people that aren’t there? All that says to me is, “I would
      rather the person on the other end of this text message be here than
      you.” The problem is, they aren’t there, if you wanted them to come out
      that night then why didn’t you just invite them out instead? By the way,
      thank you for making me feel like a third wheel to someone that isn’t
      even here.

      I thought social networking sites were supposed to help people reconnect
      together and share experiences. To me it seems more like a popularity
      contest of who can look like they are having the best time of their
      lives when in reality it’s just a couple of people at a bar going crazy
      with a camera and annoying the bartenders by asking them to take
      pictures every 5 minutes.

      Anyways, here’s my shameless plug that ties this back into work instead
      of ranting. I’m always in the mood to have a good time,
      whether I take the time to document it well or not. What we do here at
      The Go Game is create fun situations where you wish you had a camera to
      record whatever randomness we might throw at you. And the best part is,
      we make sure that you have a camera!

      Come on people! We’re here to have fun, not just take pictures that make
      it look like we had fun.