SC247's Siren Call

Confession: I haven't been to Scrabble Club 247 in over a month.  

The truth is, while I love a competitive word game as much as the next girl, I just can't muster up the energy or mental dexterity to play Scrabble for FOUR HOURS every Wednesday night.  Especially since I spend the 8 hours before that wrangling rug rats.  I'd get to SC247 and start spelling out animal noises.  What does a cow say? That's 'MOO' for 8 points, Gloria! Suck it!

So I haven't been going.  However, I haven't completely given up on SC247, and I'm happy to say that SC247 hasn't completely given up on me.  Just last week a fellow Scrabble-r invited me to go to a Jeopardy-watching party.  The e-mailed invitation hinted that "spontaneous Scrabble might break out afterward."  Then, today, I received the following e-mail from one of the club's founders.  Note the rampant sarcasm and intellectual disdain ... SC247 might be my kind of club after all.

Big break through!  Watch our club average score levitate soon!

The information in this Utube clip will certainly revolutionize club play across the United States and Canada.

Luckily, I found it before the other scrabble clubs have come across it....no way will Minnesota dominate Wisconsin evr again once our Club 247 players see the secrets this scrabble genius has unlocked here!  Swallow your pride, John O.... this guy

should write scrabble books!

Click on the link below.... and be ready for the jaw dropping conclusion!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUdSk9ETXxk

RL

Scrabble shit talking!  I love it!

Love,

M

SC247 Goes Public

Another night at Scrabble Club 247, another lesson in humility.  One of the things that I've appreciated about SC247 is its relative anonymity.  You have to go in search of the club, the club does not come to you.  Only, every first Wednesday of the month, if you happen to be at Barnes and Nobles on the west side of Madison, the SC247 does come to you.

The first meeting that I went to was held in the basement of a local assisted living center; Attic Angels.  Nobody told me that Attic Angels was an old folk's home; for some reason I thought that it was an antique store.  I imagined that I would begin my foray into competitive Scrabble cozily ensconced in a Chippendale chair, surrounded by moldering first editions and an assortment of tchotchkes.  Instead I had to wend my way through a labyrinth of stairwells that smelled faintly of chamomile tea and Vicks Vaporub.  My journey ended in a room that was empty except for a few plastic folding tables and chairs; nothing to distract us from the task at hand.  Despite the lack of fine antique furniture, I was happy to be playing Scrabble in a room that could only be happened upon by confused octogenarians.  

The second meeting I attended took place at Covenant Presybeterian Church, where once again we were safely tucked away in the basement.  I spent SC247 meeting #2 kicking butt and dropping bingos*, once again secure in the knowledge that nobody would stumble into our meeting and discover my secret shame.

Which brings us to my third meeting.  Last Wednesday SC247 met on the upper level of the west side Barnes and Nobles.  When I arrived at SC247, instead of parking in a nearly empty lot next to my co-Scrabbler's Yugo, I had to park in the mall lot and carry my Scrabble box past gawking evening shoppers.  I held my head high as I walked into B&N and silently wished that I didn't own the gigantic, turn-table version of Scrabble.  Now, I love a good book store and could happily spend 4 hours browsing and reading books I would be embarrassed to display on my shelves.  Spending 4 hours sitting at a table playing Scrabble while B&N patrons walk past and judge me in whispered voices is another matter.  It was a long night.  

Public display aside, I whooped Gloria in my first game!  It was sort of anti-climactic (although I'll take the win).  Let's face it; at the end of the game, she's still a 90 year old woman who should be proud of the fact that she's coherent enough to string letters together, and I'm still a 27 year old woman who drives around with a turn-table version of Scrabble in her back seat.  Well played, Gloria, well played.

My next goal at Scrabble Club is to throw a little Marie flava' in the mix.  I'm going to try to work the phrase "hate the playa', not the game" into Scrabble convo.

~M

* A "bingo" in Scrabble is a word that uses all 7 of your tiles, thus earning you 50 bonus points.

The Bitch is Back

Since I knew what to expect, I was much less nervous for SC247 this week.  I had been working on my 2-letter words and I figured that, if nothing else, nobody was going to challenge me on "xa" again and make me look like a fool.  I psyched myself up for my second Scrabble Club experience by listening to angry country music on the drive over.  I can tell you right now that nobody else was blasting Alcohol and Ass when they pulled into the church parking lot.  That’s how I roll, Gloria. What now?!?!

My mental calisthenics paid off, my dear friends.  I won 2 of my 4 games!  It was glorious!  Ok, “glorious” is a bit of an overstatement … but I was excited to an embarrassing degree.  I won my first game 352 to 350.  My opponent was a young man who is also new to the club; he was not happy that I beat him.  Out of respect for his feelings I only did a small victory dance; more of a victory wiggle than anything else.

My other win was significant for several reasons.  Scrabble-wise I got a high score of 407 and laid “ganglia,” a bingo that earned me kudos from the expert players. I also overcame some personal hang-ups when I challenged the word “flaten.”  The elderly woman I was playing seemed flustered as she took her tiles off the board; no doubt Gloria had told her I was an easy mark.

I lost my other games in spectacular fashion, but I was satisfied with how the evening went.  I’m thinking about memorizing random, obscure bingos just to confuse people.  I won’t have a handle on the 3-letter words, but I’ll start dropping words like “quixotry” and “obiisms” and I’ll blow their minds.

~M

Humble Pie

It is only now that I can talk about what happened Wednesday night.

To say that I lost every game of Scrabble that I played at Scrabble Club 247 would be an understatement.  To say that I got hosed by a series of elderly women; that would be closer to the truth.

Did you know that there are 101 2-letter words in the official Scrabble dictionary?  Did you know that every member of Scrabble Club 247 has them memorized?  In fact, the woman sitting next to me during my second game let it be known that she had finished memorizing her "threes" and was working on her "fours."  I thought that knowing fancy words like "hame" and "tisane" would get me in good with the Scrabble folk, but the members of SC247 couldn't have cared less about my eclectic vocabulary.  As soon as I revealed my average Scrabble score they handed me a cheat-sheet and ushered me away from the Experts' table.  

I played my introductory game against Richard, one of the founders of SC247.  The man couldn't have been nicer as he showed me that the namby-pamby Scrabble I had played with Grandma wasn't going to cut it anymore.  Tournament Scrabble is different from casual Scrabble in a number of terrifying ways.  First and foremost, you can challenge your opponents' words.  That means that when the 86 year old woman you are playing against lays the word "squod", you had better call bullshit.  Since "squod" isn't a word, she will have to remove it from the board and lose her turn.  On the other hand if your opponent plays the word "buqsha" and you challenge, you lose your turn, since everyone knows that's a word, you moron.  

Now, I know that some people play this way in their homes, but my family learned long ago that if you want dinner conversation to remain civil it's best to play friendly Scrabble.  With family harmony in mind, words that don't turn up in our battered 1982 edition of The Official Scrabble Dictionary are removed from the board, and players are allowed to retake their turns.  Playing with challenges is stressful!  The message behind a challenge, as far as I'm concerned, says one of two things to your opponent:  you are a big cheater pants, or you're a dumb ass who doesn't know his buqsha from his squod.  I'm uncomfortable with confrontation in almost any situation; sitting across from an old woman who's wearing a muumuu and telling her I think she's stupid isn't something I'm prepared to do.  Yet.  

The other big difference is that tournament Scrabble is timed.  At SC247 each player gets 25 minutes on their clock.  Games take a little over 50 minutes to play, though Expert players usually need much less time.  When I play Scrabble with my friends there is often a bottle of wine or three involved.  It takes a little longer to lay a word when your tiles are swimming in front of you.  My friend Jon and I used to play Scrabble while we were watching TV.  I had a turn during one of our games that took 45 minutes; we got distracted by a Cyndi Lauper concert and took a time out to have a dance party.

My final opponent on Wednesday night was Gloria, the oldest active member of SC247.  I sat at our board and waited as Gloria positioned her walker, then we began our game.  The three people I had played before Gloria had been very friendly; they gave me pointers and congratulated me when I made strategic plays.  Barb, my second opponent, brought me a chocolate chip cookie.  Gloria was having none of that.  Gloria studied the board and fingered her pearls silently between her turns.  We traded words and kept the score pretty even through the first half of the game.  I pulled ahead with "avidly" and was even entertaining heady thoughts of winning, when she laid "squod."  

I would hate to imply that anyone would play an illegal word in the hopes of taking advantage of a beginning player.  I would further hate to imply that an 80-something year old woman would use her apparent decrepitude to hoodwink people into underestimating her intellect.  What I will say is that when Gloria dropped "squod" I looked at her tremulous smile and I didn't challenge the word.  I never regained the lead, and Gloria beat me with a score of 305 to 239.  To add insult to injury Gloria couldn't seem to grasp the fact that she had won.  After we finished our game she congratulated me on winning; I told her she had won in the gentle voice I reserve for people who are losing their grip on reality.  

My foray into competitive Scrabble was humbling.  I walked in thinking that I would be competitive at the beginners level; I walked out thinking that old people are tricky and not to be trusted.  But I'm definitely going back.  I don't look forward  to staring across a Scrabble board into Gloria's steely gaze again, but I had a weirdly fantastic time.  I don't think that I'll ever finish memorizing the "threes" in the Scrabble dictionary ... I don't think that I'll ever start memorizing the "threes" in the Scrabble dictionary; but I'm all over the two-letter words.  My goal is to beat Gloria before she hits 90.

~M

I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

Sorry for the hiatus; I'm still settling into the rhythm of life here in Madison.  So far that involves methodically working my way through my brother's vast DVD collection, decorating my apartment,  and releasing job applications into the ether.  Yesterday's big event was the acquisition of a world map.  B and I hung it in our living room and decorated it with star stickers denoting places we've traveled.  Owning a world map decorated with star stickers has always been a dream of mine, so I suppose one could say that my dreams are coming true here in Madison.  Yes ... let's say that.

Later tonight I'll be fulfilling another long cherished dream when I become a member of Scrabble Club 247.  I've been thinking about joining a Scrabble club ever since I read Word Freak a few years ago.  Before that I didn't know that scores of intelligent, competitive, disturbingly obsessive wordsmiths got together to play my favorite game.  In my naivete I thought that winning my family's Thanksgiving tournament was the height of Scrabble glory.  I was very mistaken.  I'm looking forward to my first Scrabble club experience; I think that of all the harebrained schemes I have come up with in an attempt to make friends, this one has the most likely chance of succeeding.  

I seem to follow a familiar pattern when I move to  a new city; at first I'm all fresh faced and bright eyed and full of plans.  I greet people on the street, I locate the neighborhood coffee shop, I take long, exploratory walks, and I search for groups to join.  Over the course of the past 5 years, in 6 cities, I have researched the following: ballroom dancing lessons, cooking classes, gym memberships, basketball teams, soccer leagues, taekwondo lessons, scuba diving instructor certification, roller derby, trivia nights, writing co-ops, wine tasting clubs, choirs, Bible studies, softball leagues, volleyball teams, scrapbooking classes, painting lessons, and countless book clubs.  The idea, of course, is that I will join one of these groups, meet fabulous and interesting people that are members of said group, and end up with fabulous and interesting new friends.  We will engage in witty banter as we sip wine and paint ... or play basketball.  Then I won't be lonely!  The reality is that the few times I have roused myself enough to actually join one of these groups, the results haven't been pretty.  

In Madison in 2003 I attempted to start a Madison Moose Club with my co-workers.  After a few too many Moose cups two of my female co-workers started kissing one another, causing one of the guys there to run out of my apartment crying because his girlfriend was a lesbian.  The party ended as the rest of my guests poured out of my apartment to chase him down, hellbent on convincing him that he should encourage his girlfriend to experiment.  That was the end of Madison Moose Club.  In Grinnell in 2006 I briefly joined a roller derby team.  Though I was intrigued by the idea of being able to knock someone on their ass in a sanctioned arena, I quickly realized that I didn't have the edge needed to be a roller derby queen.  And by "edge" I mean "desire to do meth."  I also couldn't get over the fact that someone had already claimed the nickname Ivana Tripabitch.  Roller derby, it turned out, was not for me.

The truth is, my initial bursts of enthusiasm inevitably end with me sitting alone in my apartment, reading a good book, blissfully happy that I'm not surrounded by weirdoes.  What I can never seem to remember until the frenzy of relocating has run its course is that I enjoy being alone.  I get cranky if I don't have time to myself.  The other factor that renders my attempts at making friends funny rather than tragic is that I'm lucky enough to have fabulous and interesting friends.  Unfortunately none of them live in Madison, so they don't do me much good when I want to sit at a cafe and judge people with some like-minded soul.  Just the fact that they're out there, though, makes it easier for me to explore these new and bizarre avenues without fearing the result. 

With that in mind, I'm off to take a shower and get ready for Scrabble Club 247. What does one wear to Scrabble Club?  I'm thinking sequins.

~M