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Business Card Roulette: The New Game That’s Sweeping the Nation

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Last weekend, Laura Kostelny (the editrix of our sister pub D Home) and I traveled to Chicago to attend the annual City and Regional Magazine Association meeting, whereat CRMA Awards were handed out in several categories. The D family of pubs was a five-time finalist — and a five-time loser. We consoled ourselves with gallons of beer and with the knowledge that TexMo lost out nine times. Okay, they did win a couple times. Go here for the complete list.

Whatever. Here’s the important part of this post: Laura and I invented a new game that I invite you to play at home. It’s called Business Card Rouletteâ„¢. Before two or more coworkers head off on a business trip, they exchange 20 cards. Each writes something horribly embarrassing on the back of his or her coworker’s cards. Then each person MUST distribute those 20 cards on the trip. Cards must be handed to industry types (not bellhops and so forth), and they must be handed without explanation. Though if a handee asks about the message on the back, the hander can then fess up.

Pretty ingenious, eh? As inspiration, after the jump, I’ve got a few of  my favorite cards from the Chicago trip.

WRITTEN ON THE BACK OF LAURA’S CARDS
My facility with the English language did not get me my job, if you know what I mean. My mouth did.
Just so you know: I have a superfluous third nipple.
Cell: [Wick’s cellphone number redacted]
I’ve been married three times.
I like to watch.
[line drawing of semi-erect phallus]
I’m on the third day of wearing these panties.
My magazine is way better than yours.
Your magazine is dumb.
Are you holding? I’m looking to score.
I was only pretending to enjoy our conversation.

WRITTEN ON THE BACK OF TIM’S CARDS
You had me at “hello.”
We would make the cutest babies. Ever.
You are pretty. Like my mom.
You are fancy. I like you, fancy pants.
You make me moist.
You are trashy in a good way.
I like your girth.
Are you a prostitute?
My bottom is itchy.
I want to pop the zit on your forehead.
You are like a small-town Carrie Bradshaw. But worse.
Your nipples are hard. I like you.
You plagiarize. I will prove it.

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