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Animal-Vegetable-Mineral-Abstract: The Pants Memorial Game
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The chairperson selects an object/idea/whatever and announces whether it's animal, vegetable, mineral, and/or abstract. The others have to ask questions to figure out what it is. Whomever guesses the object correctly is given the chair for the next round; repeat ad nauseam.
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Is it This Too Too Solid Flesh?
Oh I dunno, Gusset, it's rather pleasant having a little natter while we're waiting. I'm sure Toby won't object.
Is it a Midsummer Night's Dream?
True, but if I can't spell my name correctly I'm in trouble
All's Well That Ends Well ?
GL]That one is definetely fictional, and a favourite.
Does it concern the quality of mercy?
I think "Guset Login" is a great name!
Hmmm. Lots and lots and lots of no's, plus one yes: Guest Login got it what was apparently hours ago with the "winter of our discontent." But it looks like you've been having fun in my absence ;-)
OK, That was unexpected. Umm... Animal
Human?
Just for the sake of originality ...
[Brenda]n yes
Man?
[Kim] Yes
Damn this clearly isn't as hard as I thought
Was that the answer or do we still need to narrow it down? :)
A gentleman on business from Porlock who, by interrupting Coleridge during the composition of Kubla Khan, caused the latter part of said poem to be irretrievably lost?
Though, if we believe Douglas Adams, this may well have been a Good Thing.
Alive?
[ZK] pmsl
Is he alive now? (Or at least, when you last looked, as you never know, not in this day and age)
Have I just asked that?
Goddammit! I was too busy wondering what "pmsl" means to register the question.
[ZK] No, you still need to narrow it down a lot [Brendan] What? I don't think so, but I don't understand the question [Chalky] At one time [Breadmaster] No [Chalky] Not quite
[ZK] No, you still need to narrow it down a lot
[Brendan] What? I don't think so, but I don't understand the question
[Chalky] At one time
[Breadmaster] No
[Chalky] Not quite

darn it

Was he born after 1800?
[GL] If I was right, you'd have known, so not to worry. The short version is that Coleridge woke up from a drugged-up dream with Kubla Khan complete in his head (or so he claimed), and proceeded to write it down. But then he was interrupted by this guy who came visiting from Porlock on business, and when he sat back down to it he'd forgotten the rest, hence the poem is incomplete.
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