The evening began with Bex and Woundie, dear friends since 8th grade, telling bad jokes to a stranger in a bar.

When our sloshy ramblings attracted the attention of a group of other strangers at the bar, we knew it was time to strike with this task.
But it turns out they weren't all technically strangers! One of them introduced himself as Jet. JET??!!
Jet. The boy universally agreed upon by the 8th grade girls of Orange Grove Middle School to be Totally Hot. And understood by boys to be a Specimen of Cool.
Gulp. How could we compete with that? As established, Woundie and Bex have always been specimens of Unsurpassed Geekitude, with no hope in sight.



Well, after our joke debacle, it was clear that we certainly weren't going to beat him at coolness, but that wasn't the challenge. Ha! Thanks SFØ for finally allowing us an opportunity to defeat Jet the 8th grade megalith and all his companions. Nerds revenge!
(Though Jet was actually nice, even in 8th grade).
A challenge of speed! (Wait, wasn't Jet on track team? Shit!)



We played the hand slapping game wherein one player puts her hands palms up and the other player hovers palms down just above player one’s hands testing his reflexes to pull away before player one slaps the backs of player two’s hands.



The problem is that we’d already had several rounds of Jack Daniels. Speed wasn’t looking so good. Fortunately I have ADHD, which is surely the best explaination for why I was so impatient to slap Jet (and Co.) with little anticipatory time of hovering, right?
It takes them off guard and I ended up succeeding in slapping hands almost every time!



However I think the only explaination for the utterly unvictorious performance of my reflexes when it was me being tested, is that I am dead. (Or undead). Jet eventually even tried counting down until he did it. I still lost. Every. Single. Time. Wow.
So he managed to slap me every time, while I missed him twice.



So the moral of the story, I suppose, must be that some things never change. Jet the Cool was superior in eighth grade and remains so 14 years later. Damn. Well at least now I can get points for it. And now Jet The Popular can be my buddy.