That's O for Outstanding, Sixty-Nine.

I noticed that most of the posts on this blog tend to have little editor's notes at the bottom. While that's all right once in a while, to do it all the time is pretty weak. I'll try to refrain in the future.

Not much news to report. I bought a fire extinguisher at K-Mart today, because I already told the insurance company I had one. I also told them there's a Renoir in my hallway. Shh.

Also went to a place around the corner called Flash Taco. Guess what they serve there. Bottom line: real cheap, real fast, real dull. I think it's because they used flour tortillas instead of corn tortillas, which actually have a taste to them. But I might have those confused. Whichever tortillas don't have a taste, those are the ones they use. It was less than delightful, but I'm not sure what I expected from a place with plasma screens showing Ricky Martin's latest greatest hits.

Last night we went to an event at the Museum of Contemporary Art called 'Bingo Tango.' It's exactly what you think. Emceed by a man who seemed to be a retired figure skater on speed auditioning for NPR, the bingo balls were called by Smokey from The Big Lebowski (you know, the guy who wouldn't mark it zero). We shared a table with an older woman named Tracy (Christie and Liz think her name was Tammy, but it was actually Tracy), and played bingo games "inspired by art pieces in the MCA collection" such as Wedge Bench. Riveting. There was also a game inspired by a painting of two dicks crossing each other and peeing simultaneously. I forget the title, but it had something to do with being completely inappropriate to look at during bingo. Anyway, in between games, a smoldering couple entertained us with their hot tango dance moves. Hence the name Bingo Tango. And there was a group lesson too. We chose to look at the art during the group lesson, thankfully.

Several bingo winners were actually told to tango before they could collect their prize (Brian Boitano's idea, obviously). One woman had taken lessons before, and she did not fail to impress. Several others were forced into extremely awkward moments, particularly the large woman who said she did not participate in the group lesson and did not want to dance in front of a hundred strangers. Once it became clear that she was on the verge of crying or punching Olympic gold-medalist Oksana Baiul, he relented and she got her prize. This host was not fun. He made me dread the idea of winning at bingo, and I'm sure I wasn't alone. He asked one "winner" named Assaf where his funny name came from, and when the answer was Israel, Tara Lipinski raised her arms in the air and spun, humming the theme from Fiddler on the Roof. In a Tim Watley-esque move, he claimed that it was OK to make jokes, since he's jewish himself. His last name is Pickleman or something, which we obviously found shocking.

Unfortunately for Liz, she won a game towards the end of the evening. Michelle Kwan was able to get her to reveal that we are new to Chicago from Washington, and I'd swear there were some hisses from the crowd as the ice princess described how evil our last home is. Liz was spared complete humiliation, thankfully, as Dorothy Hamill got distractedy by some shiny things and continued with the bingotango. Liz's prize, if you were wondering, was some sort of tiny plastic alien thingy. Maybe a pencil sharpener?

I know Bingo Tango at a museum might not sound like a thrilling way to spend a Tuesday night. Our friend Cams disappeared about halfway through, for example. But it was a nice, cheap (free) way to get out of the house and pretend to have some culture. Not too shabby.

P.S. I don't think the prospect of BingoTango would actually get me out of the house. If I hadn't already been downtown at a job interview, I probably would have missed out on the event altogether. Which would have also been fine.

P.P.S. Not sure if I'm impressed or embarrassed to know so many names of figure skaters. Still, there it is.

P.P.P.S. Dammit.