I'm going to let you in on a little secret about me: I love pain. I'm not talking about the strap-me-in leather-and-tie-me-up kind of pain*, but the kind that slowly chinks away at your ego. Yup, you got it: I play Scrabble. 98 letter tiles, 2 blanks, millions of combinations that somehow I can just never find. Limitless self-loathing.
My friend, Ed, keeps starting up Scrabble games with me on Facebook, and like a good little Bottom, I keep accepting. His first word usually tops 40 or so points. And I counter with something like "made" - 12 points [not actual score. I don't know if I mentioned I am also the foremost expert in creative scoring. See also, golf]. Currently, Ed and I are 4 words each into our latest game. And I'm about to reveal the humiliating truth: Ed, 110; me: 67.
Yesterday I logged back on to the game to put my word in. And as I moved the tiles to the board (IS, AM, JAM???), my hand suddenly released the mouse and my eyes moved to the table listing my and Ed's stats. Finally all the games, all the losses, the ranking that places me somewhere between a drooling parasite and Dubya. In response my hand goes back to the mouse, shaking I realize how Ed has systematically been destroying my very being. And I click PLAY WORD. 6 points. I stand poised and ready to be whipped again.
*Which reminds me of that time I treated my own cavity with a red-hot needle, but that's another story.
1 comment:
So true! Whenever I partake in a game of scrabble, my opponent will say something like "You're a writer (or editor), you're going to kick my ass!" But inevitably I lose. And bad. Yes, this writer, while witty and creative, is a bad speller with no sense of strategy. 12 points is a good word for me!!
Post a Comment