So as most of you know, the national spelling bee finals, i.e. the least fun activity for a kid ever, were on Friday. A girl from Cleveland won by spelling this:
God. I am already bored. She wants to go to Harvard and be a doctor. Of course she does. And our little DC resident, Lanson Tang from Potomac, MD, nailed the word “rhabdomyoma” but then ultimately lost on the word “leishmanic,” which apparently means “relating to infectious diseases caused by flagellate protozoans.”
Jesus. You can’t even spell the definition. Poor little Lanson. This is obviously the worst thing you could do to your kid. It’s competitive, academic, and applies only to a narrow sliver of a person’s knowledge. However it’s EXACTLY those qualities that make it perfect for DC liberal arts nerd happy hour. Rock and Roll Hotel on H Street recognized this, and so:
Yes. The drunk spelling bee. Winner gets a $60 bar tab and participants must have a beer or shot between turns. Have I done it? Absolutely not. TOO competitive. I can barely do trivia and that’s a team sport. Yes, the shot-between rule gives me an automatic “oh, I was wasted, that’s why I misspelled “conscientious,” but good god is that a LIE. Because “conscientious” (among much sadder examples) is in my cadre of spellcheck words. The words I routinely guess-spell while typing, banking on spell check to recognize what I am pathetically trying to say, highlight it, and correct it.
However, if they did a wasted version of THIS, I would own it:
go get’em gumshoes!
BUT. Only the last level. Not the game show part. ONLY the part where if you won, you had to name countries on a map with markers that had sirens. Remember? And if you won you got to travel to one of the 48 states and some random kid would pick “North Dakota” and everyone would be like wtf, but then sigh understandingly because alot of those kids had limited social skills.
Yeah. I would OWN that.