I suck at Scramble with Friends

Last week when Jenny and I quit blogging and had lots of time on our hands (or something like that), I developed a new obsession – Scramble with Friends. I’m sure I’m the last one to this party, but in case you haven’t seen it, it’s basically a Boggle-like game app. Make words, beat your friends, feel good about your prowess.

There’s only one problem – I suck at it.

No really, I do. Take a look.

830-577. I lose.
Bobby found 99 words. I found 53. I lose. Again.
I lose EVERY TIME.

It makes me SO MAD that I am bad at this!! It’s a word game! I am good at word games!! At least I used to be. And frankly, if I don’t have that fact to hang my hat on, I’m not sure what’s left.

There HAS to be a secret trick to this game that I’m unaware of. Do any of you know what it is?? What am I missing?!? It’s got to be SOMETHING, and I am not yet willing to concede that it’s me.

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Just Say Yes to Drugs.

Hippie Sale

Many, many moons ago, back when I was young and dumb, I attended a hippie music festival with Andy. Everything – everything – was legal in that place (or at least was overlooked by the rent-a-cops in attendance) except one thing – nitrous.

There was no nitrous allowed.

The security guards searched cars – not for drugs, mind you, because if they searched for drugs and you didn’t have any they’d probably try to give them to you – but for nitrous tanks.

No nitrous! That shit’ll kill you.

However, one group of hippies managed to get their nitrous tank past the fuzz and into the camp grounds, and in the middle of the afternoon Andy, our friends and I were sitting near our tent minding our own business (not doing drugs, for the record. I read Sweet Valley High – Regina Morrow’s fatal overdose scarred me for life, thankyouverymuch). Ahem. As I was saying. So all the sudden we hear this loud boom and a handful of hippies started rolling out of one tent, running for their lives. Their nitrous tank had exploded. BUT – for every hippie that fled the scene, there were four more hippies running in the direction of the explosion. Dozens of hippies crawling around on their hands and knees, furiously sniffing at the cloud of nitrous that was quickly disappearing into thin air.

At the time, I looked on them the same way I looked at all hippies with disgust. For shame, for shame. Breaking the rules, risking their lives doing DRUGS. Someone needed to call Nancy Reagan stat.

But.

Fast forward to today, when I innocently walked into my dentist office for a crown and walked out two hours later as a drug enthusiast.

The dental assistant, kind soul that she was, asked me if I’d like some nitrous with my novocaine, and after determining that yes, I’d be safe to drive, I told her to hook me up. I’d never had the stuff before, but OMG people, I wanted to take it home with me! They could have sawed my jaw off and I couldn’t have cared less. I just wanted to keep huffing the laughing gas. $500 for a two-hour procedure suddenly seemed like a bargain. Man, that was good stuff.

So, hippies I looked down upon all those years ago – I get it now. I totally get it. The next time a tank explodes, I’ll be right there with ya.

But you still need a shower.

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Don’t make us do it.

Jenny and I have a long-standing Halloween tradition of taking our kids trick or treating together. It’s fantastic and one of our favorite nights of the year.

However.

Tonight? I DON’T WANNA.

I am waving the Fun Mom Surrender Flag.

I know that there is so much terrible weather stuff going on in this country that I shouldn’t complain, but for realz – it is COLD and WET. I tried to start a Facebook campaign to get trick or treating postponed until this weekend, when it’ll be 50 and sunny, but to no avail.

It’s going to be awful! The kids aren’t even going to have any fun! To quote Jenny’s husband, they’re going to be dressed up as Alaskan school children! They could catch cold! Jenny’s makeup could get messed up!

The potential for disaster is limitless. Something must be done.

I wonder if we could talk our kids into a Halloween Easter Egg Hunt instead. Or maybe busting a pinata. Or, hell, I will pour sugar straight down their throats. JUST DON’T MAKE ME GO OUT THERE!!!!!

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