Can a Brother Get a Variance Up in This Bitch???


Sunday, July 15, 2007

7:00 AM, and I felt a strong desire to go back to sleep. Later, as my spare time dwindled, as it usually does, I would be glad I had started driving immediately.

Despite my optimistic daily reports to Matt, Esla, and Vernon, my detour to North Carolina to visit four new Starbucks had used up all my spare time, but it was time well spent because I stumbled across a most unusual massage therapist, one of Indian descent. In all my travels, the number of massage therapists or strippers that I have encountered who are of Indian descent is miniscule, just a handful. The same goes for Arabs. I imagine the reason is cultural. Interestingly enough, I have often seen Indian and Arab men patronizing strip clubs and massage parlors. So much for the much-touted equality supposedly accorded to women in the Koran. Well, I guess the Koran wouldn't matter to the Indians.

Anyway, for years I've been fascinated with the idea of dating an Indian woman, especially one light-skinned like Lisa Ray. But in my observations, Indians tend to keep to themselves, and I cannot think of a single instance of an Indian woman who has offered me any attention whatsoever, except one high school classmate. Indian, Lisa Ray Spotsylvania grrrr... Oh, that John Stewart... he is such a laugh riot!!! Dashboard slapping laughs! If I ever wreck my car, it's going to be because of John Stewart. Dale CIty fan excitement, four cups During the long drive to AC, I repeatedly thought about my dismal performance in New Orleans and told myself, "No mistakes. NO MISTAKES. NO MISTAKES!!!" And yet, just a few plays into my game against Flo Spanfelner... mistakes! I do not think it inaccurate to describe my play in that game as putrid. I won only because, at the last minute, I discovered I had tracked Flo as having played WAGE instead of WAGS and thought she still held an S. At the same time, Flo herself had me mistracked--had she realized I had a G, she would have blocked a crucial spot for my, and my tournament would have started with doom. As you can imagine, the simulation process was painful, and it was good that I didn't have a box-cutter handy. Matt, Eli, Jeff, Marty, Deli on the Square, anguish As I headed out to grab something light for dinner I spotted Matt, Jeff, Marty, and Eli getting in a car. For no particular reason, I decided to follow them to some deli. Turned out to be Deli on the Square, and the sign on the window cleared read "OPEN SUNDAY", but the place was closed. Poor Jeff must have had a real jones for the place, because he just went nuts. First he feel knees first onto the hard pavement and began beating his chest 1:30 AM kids, move, truck


Monday, July 16, 2007

8:27, and I felt unschlmmmglglglg. Pressure towards the front of my skull sounded like glrrrr glrrrr glrrrr. Didn't think it was caffeine withdrawal--I worried I might be getting sick because of nasal congestion.

As I jumped to the front of my car I saw in my rearview mirror an old man walking across the parking lot. He glanced over, probably thinking, "what a funny-looking young man". Well, dude looked funny in his dinky shorts and calf-high top-striped socks, so he didn't need to be talking.

Outside, a small mosquito banged its "head" over and over against my windshield, eager to penetrate my tender skin and suck out my lifeblood. That's exactly why I can't ever crack the windows no matter how hot it is.

I sat there with the air (just air, no cooling) blowing for a while, trying to wake up. I drank half a DoubleShot. I put drops in my eyes. No use. I was still zombie-like as I made my way over to Deli on the Square. Good thing it was close by.

nappy hair, sleep fall

OJ

roach trap adhesive, real women can't find razor Before getting out of my car to enter the hotel, I let out a couple of wookie bellows, trying to get them out of my system. Didn't work. As I sat in the playing room I still felt like bellowing, but I held back. Okay, just a tiny squawk. Don't think anybody heard. You know Scrabblers--always absorbed in their own business. Funny how sometimes it's all about perception. Almost at the end of the game, Sarah Rosenblum sighed and commented "I've been struggling this whole game." Meanwhile, Marjorie kept running up the spread--she was ahead of me by some 400 points.

Meanwile, in the bathroom, I had a near-repeat of the Wilmington incident. Once again, an awkwardly-placed toilet seat in the handicapped stall, only this time I reacted much more quickly, and I only got a slight trickle on my pants, on my socks, and down my leg. Yuck. Time to throw those socks in ye olde sack of putrid odours.

As I walked back to the room, I could feel that the leak had been more severe than I had first imagined, and I had to walk funny, keeping my leg as straight as possible, to avoid the yucky wet sensation. I thought about changing, but Verna looked anxious to play, and kept joking about

By the time I got back and finished lunch, I had simmed our game, and, as I suspected, I played well--only 32.9 equity points lost. Of course that knowledge only pissed me off more.

Shaving and changing availed me not a whit, as #1 Steve Glass, admittedly aided by his knowing JOINtUR(E), outdrew the fuck out of me to kill my spread. Did give up more equity in that one, but the only one major mistake prior to missing the nine (OR)ALITIES.

Not that spread mattered if I couldn't win games, and that outdrawing outdrawer Erica Norris, in a most Verna-like manner, pulled lucky X, Q, Z plays, plus a blank, plus other seemingly fortiutous scores, to win by 7. I was left close to livid. Can a brother get a fair draw up in the bitch???

I was anxious to get back to drawing tiles against my next opponent, PSH, but I knew I need to clear my head of the negavity. That lasted for about a minute. Thoughts of gloom and doom return fairly quickly as I drew the blank on my second turn, but with BGOOQN! Even as I tried to remember what would Quackle do, I feared I was making the wrong choice, choosing to exchange over BOON. I started to grumble as I looked at my tiles, IIKNNW, but then I saw WINKINg, and two places to play it. And what happened? That rascally PSH managed to block both spots with ADIPOSE. Grrr...

Not quite hungry, I stuck around to take advantage of the Wi-Fi, and I ended up playing another game with Steve Glass. He outdrew me again! But that had nothing to do with my decision not to accompany him to the deli. Nope, no hard feelings there. In actuality, I needed to rearrange my "bed". Before leaving Houston I had introduced another mattress cushion and different padding scheme. Didn't work very well, and after just a few days the cushions were all out of place.

I also needed to run up the street to check out some a massage placed advertised on Craig's List, Moon Body Works. From the sound of the name, my guess was that the establishment was Asian, but when I called, the voice message was in what sounded like a eastern European accent. I avoid Asian massage parlors because of the extremely low probability that the therapist will speak conversational English. Eastern European therapists seem to Also in that direction was Jade's Filipino Market and Restaurant. I'm not crazy about Filipino food, but such restaurants are unusual enough, and the food is decent enough and often reasonably-priced, that I am usuall tempted to try it out. Borders Outlet, prompting me to exclaim, "can a brother get some Harry Potter up in this bitch???"


Tuesday, July 17, 2007

7:50, and I was glad that I wasn't feeling as bad as the previous morning.

Drove slowly down Atlantic looking for grub. Spotted a market at the corner at Florida Ave. I parked, and as I walked towards the store I discovered I had the following items in my hands:
A) Bag of dirty briefs and socks
B) Used facial tissue (commonly known as kleenex, but actually Puffs)
C) Lid from a Starbucks cup
D) Bag of Scrabble tiles
Two of the items were intended for a trash bin, but the other two I did not really need to be carrying around the store, so I went back to the car. Inside the store, I checked my back pocket and discovered my money missing--it must have slid out of the pocket inside the car. Once again I returned to car, and then I realized I had over two dollars in change, enough for what I intended to buy. I was clearly unawake, and if I didn't wake up before starting to Scrabble, I was going to be in for trouble.

Inside the market, the pickins were slim. Bananas overripe and fly-infested, and no yogurt. I guess yogurt is more a White thing than a Latino thing. Only an apple looked appealing, but the stop was still worth it, because the cashier had a killer rack. Very unusual for an Asian woman. There was a reason for that. She was not Asian, but Latina. And upon closer inspection, it appeared that the lift in her breasts might have had more to do with the bra than nature. Yet another question that I will forever wonder about.

Incidentally, the market was called "La Placita--Your Neighborhood Store". Well, since they claimed it was my story, I asked for the manager and attempted to assert a claim to a share of the profits. Needless to say, my words fell on deaf ears.





Down the street I spotted a sign that said "BREAKFAST OPEN"--it belong to the Lenox Restaurant. I sat outside to wait for my other so could spot the meter maid (or parking enforcement officer, if you want to be gender-neural) before she ticketed my car. I attracted the attention of a elderly gentleman with very dark skin, jeans, and a white button down shirt, Hawaiian-style maybe, but with some odd pattern on it. He mumbled something. I said, "Excuse me?" He mubled something again. I said, "Excuse me". He walked away.

I happened to glance at the receipt for my coffee, and it read "LENOX CAFE", not "LENOX RESTAURANT", like the menu. AARRGHH!!! How was I supposed to accurately log my purchase in the face of such an egregious discrepancy??? Can a brother get some attention to detail up in this bitch???

I shuddered when I saw that I had to play 4-8 Keith Barry (or is it Barry Keith???), because I have a bad habit of being outdrawn by players doing poorly. While his 4-8 record wasn't the worst, the fact that he was the #5 player meant he was doing particularly poor, which meant I was in for it. Up until the point at which the game was hopeless, I gave up only 14.8 equity points, and 7 of those were for a playing the safe R(E)LIANCE over the TWS-opening CARLINE for just 6 more points. I had my most disappointing win of the day against Ryan Fischer. After taking a chance with UNDERBE(T)* and then going on to draw very well, including a 3x3 OVERLI(E)S, I screwed up on the next-to-last turn and emptied the bag when I knew full well that Ryan might have a bingo. But at the last second my mind forgot that as I tried to set up an additional line, since I had AAGLNT? and was likely to bingo myself. Unforgivable. And of course, had I just known GALlANT(S) is good, I would have had the bingo anyway. FI(E)LDINg as my first play certainly helped against Thomas Stumpf, but it was really my challenging off FLORIST/(FIELDINg)S* that was an early critical play. Holding EGILNRV, I was considering opening up the board, but since he had an S I kept it tight, and Thomas was never able to get any momentum. Additionally, with a P being the only place to bingo from, I gave up points



Analysis







Avg:



More Confessional