Trivial Pursuit 20th anniversary edition is The Devil.¹

For Christmas Eve, I always get to open one present, and the present I opened was the aforementioned Game (if you say the name outright, it practically gives a demon a stamped invitation to steal your very soul, so from now on: it shall be referred to as The Game).

I asked for The Game because my Dad always smokes me at regular TP. I figure this is because regular TP is always asking these dumb questions, like about movies from 30 years ago, putting me at a disadvantage to people who were alive 30 years ago. I figure The Game remedies this, because it's about the last 20 years: all time I've been alive. Sure, I'm a bit fuzzy on the Reagan years, seeing as how I was an infant, but still, a mighty leveler.

So I opened The Game, and three and a half hours later²--my mom still has no pieces. She starts rampantly cheating, which I, frankly, encourage. I myself--have three pieces, and eventually start cheating. My Dad has all pieces, but can't win, even with us letting him pick whatever he wants when he gets to the center. Mom won't let him really cheat (which I suggested, to end the game sooner) because he always beats us at Trivial Pursuit, and she gets tired of it.

After about four hours², my Dad just leaves, and Mom and I stop playing.

I have to wonder how regular people play this game. I am not kidding when I say my family is Trivia GODS. I am a master of useless information. I used to compete in Scholastic Bowl (jeopardy-esque game), I was literally the best player on my school's team, and had to be in the top twenty in our region. And my Dad is so good at trivia that it makes me look like a moron, trivia-wise. My mom is rairly decent at trivia, too³. If we can't get this game played in four hours, even with cheating, what do people with actual lives do?


Though--I grudgingly admit to some good points to The Game:


1) After two or three hours of The Game, my Mom and I got to that point where EVERYTHING seems hilariously funny. We laughed and laughed, and laughed some more. My sides hurt. Did you know Ronald Reagan used to call his wife "Nancy Pants"? Good stuff.

2) I get the feeling it would be a really fun game to play while drunk, drinking enhancing the feelings mentioned in point 1. You could probably even make it into a drinking game. "Do a shot every time they mention one of the Reagans, Madonna, or one of the Collins sisters." and you would be drunk pretty quickly. Damn you Satan, drawing us nearer to liquor using Trivial Pursuit.


Otherwise, Christmas Eve: Pretty good. Dad and I had lunch at Pizza Hut, and I applied for summer work at his company. Yea, summer work. I don't know if I want to work for a company so anal that it makes you apply for summer work in the middle of work. Well, actually I do. I'm poor. And it would probably be a good job.

We also had Fondue (the version where you dip things in hot grease--my arteries are sad, but I am happy) for dinner. We actually hadn't had fondue for several years, but I begged my mom for it, so she made it.

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¹ Well, really all Trivial Pursuit is the Devil. I mean, there's some law that someone else always gets all the questions you know go to someone else. This law even applies against the people you play with. So you can't get through the game without hearing (and probably saying it yourself, though you KNOW you don't want to say it, because you say it every damn time you play the game and have to hear others say it every damn time you play the game)
"You get all the good questions!" "Why can't I get any good questions?" "Someone else always gets the questions I know. Yet, this is the game my family plays most often, because it kind of sucks the least of most of our other games.

² This includes a brief pie break

³ Though I was damned shocked to learn that neither of them had any idea who Paula Jones is. Next thing you know, they'll forget about Elian Gonzales or Enron or something.