I22, I22.

For those who have a short attention span coupled with an intense need to fill the air with the sound of your own voice, a song you learned in fifth grade or often inappropriate comments, you would not have survived a particular Indiana excursion. My grandma is a rockstar. She volunteers and the Lords Cupboard (Think a Goodwill-type store with random swag), she knows the stats for every Indiana sports team (except for anything under the rule of Knight), and managed to be the most legit farmers wife under the sun. With that said, she lives for one thing: bingo.

That's right. We loaded up the mini-van and headed into town to try our chances at Bingo.

Of course my cousin Lisa shows up 15 minutes into the first game (straight line) and managed to catch up for the part B (X) and gets the first Bingo.

She didn't own it. I was hoping for the "Commee on down.." moment.

Seriously? You WIN? This was grandma's night Lisa - you're supposed to throw the game...

My aunt Beth is a pro at this. Goodluck Charm, check. Lucky Dobber, check.

By the third game in, I couldn't keep up with my 30 games, I was behind on the numbers and I didn't understand why I didn't win yet. And, then. It happened.

She won! Mind you, there are atleast 75 people in this joint. We're the youngest there by a few hundered crows feet and Aunt Beth has the cahoonas to win on the lucky 7's. Big Shot.

Guess the picture of my sweet baby friend really was good luck.

But, then. Something BIG happened. I mean bigger than the guy on the front row wetting his britches.


That's right. Won on the same number as some regular so they made me split it. No worries, I paid my $30 back to grandma - I mean, she did buy my cards and all.

She probably won't invite us back.