I had never heard of bunco until after my son was born. My career had me working most nights so I knew nothing about this particular pasttime, which was apparently going on in countless suburban homes all around me.
Then my next-door neighbor BEGGED me to come to her house because she'd somehow got roped into hosting and she needed at least one kindred spirit there - in other words, someone who would also think it was the most insipid waste of time ever on the face of the earth.
Perhaps I'm not expressing myself clearly enough as to how I feel about the activity.
So I go over there, and it was even worse than I'd anticipated. It involves dice and drunk women. Sound like Vegas? Not so much. The crown of the evening was when one of them asked when I was due.
"I had my baby. Three months ago."
I wikipediaed bunco for those incredibly fortunate souls who aren't yet familiar with it. Mostly because I've always wanted to make wikipedia a verb. Here is, in part, what they have to say:
"In recent years, the game has seen a resurgence in popularity in America, particularly among suburban women. As it is played today, Bunco is a social dice game involving 100% luck and no skill (there are no decisions to be made), scoring and a simple set of rules. Women who are part of a Bunco club take turns as the Bunco hostess, providing snacks, refreshments and the tables to set up the games. The hostess may also provide a door prize. Small amounts of money can be involved as well. The object of the game is to accumulate points and to roll certain combinations. The winners get prizes (provided by the hostess or pooled from the club resources) for accomplishments such as the highest score, the lowest score, or the most buncos. Prizes frequently center on themes associated with the game such as fancy dice, dice embedded in soap, t-shirts featuring illustrations of dice, etc."
I'm sure you're now dying to find a local bunco group of your own, aren't you?
Every so often, the party is at the house behind my next door neighbor's house. These people put in a pool last summer and let's just say there are many nights when I sleep with my pillow over my head, trying to drown out the sound of 10 year-olds shrieking at 1 in the morning. But it wasn't me who called the police on them, just for the record.
The din when they host bunco makes nails on a chalkboard sound like a symphony. Last summer we were serenaded to shouts of "party foul" followed by a ringing bell and raucous cackling by a bunch of shitfaced middle-aged housewives set free for a night from watching kids/cleaning the kitchen/folding laundry for a night.
I get the need to escape, I really do. But seriously. We weren't this obnoxious in college. Maybe high school.
Imagine how thrilled I was this evening to see two of my neighbors (no, not including the one who hosted the party. She quit the group and never went back) strolling down the street. They were wearing Lakers jerseys, mardi gras beads and one had Mickey Mouse ears on her head.
"It's travel night at bunco!"
Unfortunately, they were not traveling out of state. Just down the street, around the corner - and to the house behind my neighbor's.
Now, I know some very nice women who love bunco, which is clearly an acronym for getting tanked, or possibly "Brain Un Neccessary Cluttering Object". I love them despite of their habit.
I just can't figure out why you need to play some beyond stupid game with dice to knock back a few.
Anyone out there a bunco girl? Maybe you can explain the attraction!
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