What clubs have you and your close friends "unofficially" started?

In My Humble Opinion
1

You know how people who are close tend to start up their own sort of club? You know… with their own superstitions and/or rituals that have a special meaning to them. Well, what unofficial clubs or groups do you belong to? How did they get started? What are your, “rituals”, if you have any?

I will tell you about mine:

I belong to a group of magicians that meet annually at Abbott’s Magic Get-Together, a magic convention held every August in Colon, MI. We call ourselves the, “International Sacred Order of the Raccoon Zonbie” (ISORZ for short). We meet at this campsite for a bon fire every year on the Friday evening of this convention.

It started 18 years ago because our founding fathers were fed up with all of the magicians that were so full of themselves. So they started this group whose goal is to embrace stupidity and silliness. Ironically this same group are all people who are very accomplished magicians.

One of our rules is, “The sacred scotch may NOT be scotch.” We also have the ritual of vanishing the sacred scotch. This is done by passing around whatever our Grand Poobah for the year has selected as the sacred scotch. Part of the vanishing ritual is eveyone honoring those in magic that have affected us (One of two serious rituals we observe).

There are other rules as well, some of which are:
Rule #1: There are NO rules!
Rule #2: In an emergency, refer to Rule #1
Rule #3: Only the Correspondance School of Past Poobahs may elect the next Poobah
Rule $4: Only members NOT present may vote. (So when we want to induct somone, we have to not vote for them.)

We have other rules, but they don’t make sense unless you have been inducted and have the history of the group explained.

Most of the rituals we have are absolutely stupid and silly. Inductees are called scabs and are called to induction by the following phrase: “Many are chosen, few are stupid enough to follow.”

The other serious ritual we have is to pour the last of the sacred scotch that we save on the grave site of our patron saint, Duke Stern. We do this on the last day of the convention.

We are an incredibly close group. I consider them my second family. It is this group that really makes this convention an event I can’t wait to go to.

So tell me about your unofficial club or group.

2

We have The Comittee. It was formed by my friends in college, with the sole goal of getting two of its members to stop being stupid and start dating. There were seven of us originally, including both laurelann and Phoenixfire (what can I say, I’m good at getting my roommates addicted to straight dope). Two members left as they are no longer speaking to us. My boyfriend has been accepted into the fold, I think.

I think our motto is “We’re not strangers, we’re just strange.” Our rituals include going goth clubs, Denny’s at two am and group sleep overs where little sleeping and much talking occurs.

To me, at least, the members of the comittee are more important than my family. If my parents don’t like my boyfriend, well, that’s regretable and will make Thanksgiving akward. If anyone in the comittee had a serious problem with him, I don’t think I could continue my relationship. I would so anything for them, and they for me.

3

Nothing nearly as complicated* as the OP, but once we built a fort (as in chairs and blankets) in the back of the drama room, saying, “You have to be awkward, or you’re not allowed in the fort.”

*Okay, nothing as complicated-sounding :wink:

4

A good friend of mine while in college became a member of a group called “The Doctors”. Each person in the group was a doctor of something and each had a name reflecting what they were known for. There was a guy called Dr. Teeth because of his smile. My friend, because of his reputation for dating quite a lot of women, was known as Dr. Love.

5

A friend and I formed the Heretics Club while at university. We were part of a Christian society which had a fairly high proportion of Fundamentalist-leaning people, while my mate and I were of a more relaxed persuasion. We had business cards made for ourselves and embossed with our motto - “You name it, we claim it”, a parody of the “Name it and claim it” brand of theology that was doing the rounds at the time…

Unfortunately, this was in our final year, and neither of us had the time or energy to make rules or converts :slight_smile:

Grim

6

Back when I was in first grade, some friends organized what they called the Mooface Club. It was supposed to be a spy organization similar to U.N.C.L.E. (after the popular series of that time “The Man From UNCLE”). I was transferred to a different school for grades 5 thru 8, and when I reunited with the others in high school, I learned the name had been changed to M.O.O.S., which stood for Masters Of Organized Sex. The official handshake involved holding your hands in front of you, fingers interlocked and thumbs pointing downward like cows’ udders. Another “Moo” would then pull down on your thumbs as if milking a cow, and both of you would say “MOOOO”.

7

When I was in the Navy I was inducted into * the amalgamated union of can and bottle openers* Similar to the Army and their unit coins.

We had laminated cards, if you were in the bar and asked to produce your card and cannot you must buy a round. If you have your card, the asker must buy the round.

Getting to be a member was expensive and caused many many hangovers.

8

I’m a sucker for a homemade secret society or self-generated social club. Right now, I guess I’m in two.

  1. I’m a member of the local SHARP (Skinheads Against Racial Prejudice) crew. We don’t have any particular initiation requirements, but if you’re a skin and you hang out with us and get along, eventually you’re offered a patch for your flight jacket. It helps if you’re a fun drinker and if you’re willing to stand up for a buddy.

  2. I live in a duplex that is right next to a triplex. They’re old buildings, and they sit up overlooking one of the two main roads in town. We’re the only residential places left in the area, and even though most of the people in town pass us daily, no one seems to notice that our little compound even exists. There’s 5 places and it’s in the 500 block, so we’re called The Fives. All 5 tenants are tight friends, all single guys, and we all get together at least 4 or 5 times a week to watch tv, drink beer, etc. We throw massive parties as a group - with no other residences within blocks of us, there’s no one to call the cops and we can raise hell all night. We’re starting to talk about getting tattoos.

9

Well, in the spirit of mid-life crises everywhere, I offer two:

  • my gang of poker buddies: the rules have to do with who gets invited, what the goal is (to have fun more than to be Mr. Dominant Poker Stud) and what can be discussed (what is discussed during Poker stays in the room - our town is too small).

  • my rock band: oh, the rules. Simple things like who books the gigs and talks money (I do); who has the final say on songs (my drummer, a pro who also runs a recording studio - duh!), etc. The rules are quite numerous, but evolved naturally, which is a good thing - there have been a couple of conflicts but they have gotten worked out. The number one rule I suppose is: If it is a band issue, then we decide it as a band.

10

Well, way back in Violence-vill (Violetville ) Elementary, I founded a detective’s Club. Basically, we simply roamed the schoolyard, trying to find out information about what people did that lead to littering, and tried to find proof of the bullies actions. Also, we regularly read from an army manual of basic skills. No real lasting effect, or importance, really.

11

When I was in 4th grade back in the mid '70s at the height of the CB Radio craze, I and three friends started up the “Ears Club”–I brought my walkie-talkies to school and we’d spend recess periods running around the playground going “'breaker breaker, good buddy,” and such. It was pretty much my idea and I spearheaded it–my friends were easygoing and went along with it because it was something different to do (plus they got to play with my walkie talkies). We had to memorize the most common “ten codes” (our favorite was 10-100, aka, “I gotta go to the can”) and we made up a few of our own, which we kept in the club notebook.

To this day, when my spouse (with whom I shared this story long ago) or I spot a dog, we’ll say, “that’s a 10-27, good buddy!” (10-27 being club code for, and I quote: “there’s a dog”).

Why do I waste valuable brain real estate remembering these things, anyway? :slight_smile: