Fish Fight

Last weekend, Rachel and her roommates had a goldfish party.

Ever heard of one?

It's ok I hadn't either.

Nor did I think that it was something that would be very fun.

To be honest, I thought it all sounded a little too Provo for me. You know the constant theme parties that the students and complexes are always having. 80s - Poker - All White - 90s Sitcoms - Murder Mystery - Origami - Great Gatsby - Etc. Surprisingly enough, these are all examples of parties I have attended in the past. I don't know whether to be proud or embarrassed.

I was up front with Rachel and told her that I didn't want to come. I felt that there were probably more important things going on for a Saturday night. But who was I kidding? The majority of my Salt Lake friends were going to be there and Daphne more or less forced me into going; seeing that we had spent the whole afternoon together at Costco. So I gave in.



Everyone invited was supposed to bring their own fish . . . preferably a gold one . . . to race in a round robin style tournament. Each round consists of two fish being placed in homemade race tracks filled with water. Then with squirt guns, you guide your fish to the end. Sound ridiculous? Well it kind of was.





Daphne and I bought the biggest goldfish we could find and named him Mr. Manager. (You know, from Arrested Development?) Our hope was that he would be crowned champion of the fifty plus fish that were in attendance. However, his size became a detriment and he ended up losing every race. That or someone drugged him. The verdict is still out.





Despite our loss, we had a great night.
The crew was back together again and we ended the night with another Provo favorite - a dance party.



Update: Mr. Manager passed away. Daphne found him, mourned, and flushed him down the toilet with a bunch of glitter. Random. I guess that makes up for the lack of coffin.