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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