I got addicted to phone Scrabble. It’s my own fault. I had hit a writer’s block with my car and my brain was in the shop for awhile. While I was waiting for it to be fixed, I took up with the Scrabble lady who lives inside my phone.
Man, what a cheating bee-yotch.
I added the word “Cocky” to my title in a show of support for indie authors. Cockygate is a disgusting turn of events in the world of self-publishing and Amazon. The very idea of it made me want to throw a few fake cocky book titles on Amazon just to mess with the nut job author who’s the cause of the whole thing.
People who want to copyright or trademark words in the English language really tick me off.
Ms. Scrabble is almost as bad. It’s been quite a ride making her acquaintance. These electronic “characters” I interact with are female, which is revealing, as is the fact that I’m usually ticked at them for one thing or another. Probably something to do with female bosses and my dearth of good experiences with them.
I don’t like puzzles, riddles, fill in the blanks, or guessing games. A good mystery is my favorite kind of puzzle, but then I spoil it by looking at the ending when I can’t take the suspense any longer. Why I’m addicted to phone Scrabble is a mystery, because Scrabble is a crossword puzzle without clues.
Someone invited me to play Words with Friends with them, and I tried. I signed up and started a game with the maid from Downton Abbey of all things, but I can’t stand playing it. I don’t know where from whence springs this ennui with Words. Maybe I’m mildly insulted I have to play with Daisy, the maid, instead of one of the “above stairs” people.
I played phone Scrabble so often for a few days that I advanced to skilled and actually won a game or two. But I lost the impetus and am back at intermediate.
It might be my fevered imagination, but I swear I was getting three ‘N’s, the ‘X’ and two ‘W’s all the time after I won my first game against her. You may scoff, but we don’t know who’s pulling the levers back there in the phone.
I killed it right out of the gate in one game. I was messing around with my first tiles and spelled out “treason.” The phone Scrabble went nuts; threw me an ironic party, got drunk, and refused to take calls for awhile.
I also scored big on “xu,” a word I didn’t even know existed and certainly didn’t know I knew. The phone Scrabble went nuts on this one, too, but I think she’s getting wise. Every time I turn around, she’s using some godawful combination of letters she swears is in the dictionary, but she won’t tell me what they mean. It was happening so often, I started doing it, too, and that’s how I came up with “xu.”
I got so mad a couple of times by the cheating, I wanted to do the movie thing and throw my phone in the river. There is no river around here, though. That leaves throwing it against the wall and knocking down a picture. Where’s the point in that?
I’m an aeolist and a panglossian, which Ms. Scrabble is not. She has access to the best brains in the business, while I just have access to my own brain. Unless I cheat, too. I’m not above that.
Last night, that cheating little twerp used the word ‘grrrl’.
I kid you not. That is an accepted word in Scrabble. It’s some derivative of “Riot girl” mixed with punks or something. This word, devoid of vowels and chock full of consonants, it accepts as a word, but it won’t recognize “IQ” and “AC.”
Who says the full words anymore for those? Who says “Turn on the air conditioning?” Who says “intelligence quotient?” Nobody, that’s who.
Phone Scrabble accepts “MM” too, which stands for the month in month, day, year format. Grrrl and MM. How can I be expected to know these “words”? The world has gone crazy. Some silly writer trademarking a word like “cocky” and phone Scrabble saying, “Hey, girrrl! How’s your xu?”
See, now that I know these words, I’m going to be a dunandunate about them.
I can’t even claim I learn new words playing against Ms. Scrabble. Did I learn some fancy, useless word that’s been around for generations and is only used in academic papers when discussing Victorian literature and the subtleties of The Owl and the Pussycat?
No, my lucubration playing phone Scrabble has netted me naught but the moniker of ultracrepidarian. Which the typing monitor doesn’t even know. It suggested “ultraconservative” instead. What a nebbish.