In all
the excitement about Moron!, I forgot to record that on Sunday, I played the first proper Scrabble game I've played since, well, since I last wore a school uniform. (Don't get into a kerfuffle. There's nothing kinky in that.) While I didn't win, I held my own rather respectably, I think, next to
Terz ("thorax"),
Mr B ("qi") and Mrs B ("I have no fucking vowels!"). More importantly, I managed to notch over 100 points on a couple of games, which I suspect is an exponential improvement from the scores I used to rack up as a kid.
However, I'm certainly no Dan Wachtell, whose
Slate article "
Word Up" records his experiences at the National Scrabble Competition. I'm now torn between allowing myself to be desperately sucked into Scrabble world (I'm already tempted to read the Wachtell-referenced Stefan Fatsis's
Word Freak) and tossing out my twenty-year-old set of Travel Scrabble before the addiction can take hold.
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