I was purchasing food for trivia night, and I thought I might try to recreate the selections of cheeses and almonds and fig paste Friend Anne and I so enjoyed before the opera that one time.
“What was that dish called,” I wondered as I picked out the cheeses. “Croquamboard? Crocambouche? Charboard? Crudite?” At trivia Anne immediately said “Charcuterie board.”
I tell you that story so you know the state of my brain going in. I contributed nothing until almost the end. Our table nailed the “Punchlines to Dad jokes” section. I provided the answer to “What did the momma buffalo say to her boy when she dropped him off at school?” (Bison.)
The emcee had everyone shout the answers to those, and it was particularly gratifying we were the only ones shouting the answers to the last few questions, particularly when we yelled the answer to “What is Romeo and Juliet’s favorite fruit?” (Cantelope, we yelled.)
That was followed by a glorious identification of every country flag, assisted by Friend #2’s daughters and their guests.
But then, in a horrible example of hubris, we blew the Miscellany category, in part because “mischievous” is hard to spell. (Two ways to pronounce it, one way to spell it.) Of course one of the young people knew it, but did we listen to her? No.
The same category asked, “What web site has been called the greatest source for information on the Internet?” I said to my table, “Oh. The greatest source for information on the internet is … PornHub.” It was funny and my table laughed, as did the tables around us, who had gone dead quiet just a split second before.
I actually blushed. The younger generation really loved that.