#BingoRageStudio: Morning after the Bingorage xmas party

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Bingorage assistant, in compromising position, at Broken Vulture Art world headquarters.

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Why so mad

Bingo-Rage was an inside joke between my Mum and I. She was a diehard, loyal bingo player who passed away a few years ago. Her jones wasn`t the multimillion dollar jackpots bleeding Las Vegas dry, it was the insatiable $50 inside square and the lascivious, yet demure thousand dollar jackpot.

I could always tell when she had missed a big pot; holding onto a card that only needed two more numbers, when the ballcount was only at 36. Or, some such compelling position. She then watched twenty-two balls dance by, sometimes right next door; but fail to light on her stoop. She was steamed.

I smile and declare ``another clear, cut case of Bingo Rage. Tut, tut...``

That earned a harumph and we would run our post-Bingo routine: analysis of the night`s lineup and remembrances of triumphs past.

:Eric

#BingoRageStudio

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Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Morning after the Bingorage xmas party

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