My brother, the genius

Two weeks ago, Thor and I and my mother and brother went to dinner at Cracker Barrel. I really dig that restaurant namely because the food tastes homemade and geniune. Plus, the store is cute.

At each table, they have a brain teaser game for you to play with. It’s a piece of plywood cut into the shape of a triangle and with holes drilled into it. You put a golf tee in each hole, leaving one hole empty. Then, you try to take away the tees by jumping them over each other (checkers style) until you can make no more moves.

Leaving 1 tee is perfection. Or as the instructions painted on the triangle say, “A genius.” Three or four pegs left indicate that you are stupid. Five or more mean that you’re an “Ig-nor-a-moose.” Charming, no? As is proven by the game over and over again, I’m too stupid to recall what leaving two pegs means.

While we were waiting for the food, I took a stab at it and left five pegs. FIVE! Whatever.

John takes the game, and while we were all chatting away, managed to win the damn thing. One peg.

“This game is my bitch!” he exclaimed gleefully. If we weren’t in a public place, he probably would have broken out the Arsenio Hall Dog Pound “woof! woof! woof!”

I took a picture w/my Treo to document the event (after he had replaced the pegs) and off-handedly mentioned that I’d put the picture on my blog.

Because I’m an ig-nor-a-moose, I promptly forgot about the picture.

After a few reminders by the self-proclaimed “Cerebral Assasin” I present to you my brother, John, basking in the afterglow of his triumph over the Cracker Barrel game.

Sorry ladies, he’s taken.