Mad Atoms

Thursdays at the Cock and Bull combines two of my favorite activities – playing trivia and drinking myself into a stupor. I always thought that knowing a lot of trivia was a fun but useless party trick – good if I ever wanted to get on JEOPARDY or impress a date during board games, but useless in my day to day life. That was before I learned that at The Cock and Bull, first prize nets you a hefty $30 cash, enough to offset the cost of beer it takes to wrangle friends into playing with me. Teams are from two to six people. You have to come up with a team name, which is when all the pathetic regulars seize upon their dreams of becoming standup comics. They think it’s hilarious to call their team such topical gems as Sarah Palin’s Pubic Hair Is Also Upswept or Woody Allen Vouches for the Age of the Chinese Gymnast. I just name mine We Punch Your Team Name in the Cock.

You bid a range of points each round, one value per answer (1, 3, 5, or 7 to start then 2, 4, 6, or 8 in later rounds) and write your answers and bids on pieces of paper that you turn in.

There are regular teams that play each week. They usually have an unfair advantage, like more people than us (it’s usually just me and the girlfriend, and she’s never seen or heard most cultural touchstones like CASABLANCA, STAR WARS, or any of Led Zeppelin’s music because she grew up on a farm) or Chinese people.

Our generally poor performance could have something to do with the fact that I usually consume an entire pitcher of beer by the time the evening’s done, starting out strong and my answers getting progressively dumber and more obnoxious as the evening wears on (Sample question – “What are Wayne and Garth’s last names?” My answer “Fuck” and “Pussy.”) The combination of drunkenness and trivia is often entertaining, but sometimes it gets dangerous too. Last week I was so hammered, I got on the 405 the wrong way and ended up at the Long Beach airport before I realized I wasn’t heading north. A motorcycle cop approached my car and asked if I knew why he pulled me over. I calmly wrote down “7 points” and “Drunk off my ass” and handed him the slip of paper.