Sailing through the fifth grade

This weekend I hopped a train up to Schenectady so Julie, Mrs. F and I could have one last hang before Julie runs off to Ireland to pop out her kid and get married and crap. There were a few tears, but mostly, we laughed until we were in pain.

The thing you have to understand about Julie is that she's ditzy. She's not dumb, it's just her schtick. It's made her the butt of many jokes over the years, though, what with her propensity for misunderstanding song lyrics and such. While we stuffed our faces with the contents of Mrs. F's cupboards, Julie proudly informed us that she had recently become a member of Mensa. Then we played a board game that Mrs. F swiped from her parents called Go to the Head of the Class. The game is from 1957. I quickly sailed up to 8th grade, trouncing Mrs. F and Julie soundly. Julie, incidentally, spent most of the game in kindergarten, while Mrs. F and I taunted her.

"For a Mensa member, you sure do suck at this."

"Hey Mensa! How's kindergarten?"

"I wish we had a video camera so we could tape this game and show the people at Mensa."

We really shouldn't have been poking fun, though, because after none of us could answer any of the questions at the "adult" level right, we unanimously decided to play at the "intermediate," or fifth grade level. Whatever, I still won.