I suck at Scrabble. I mean, I suck dead bear dry. I don’t know if I get too caught up in trying to wow everyone with an OED-worthy word. Maybe I’m fixated on the triple-word score. Whatever the case, I get a serious ass-whupping every time, usually by a 7th grader or a great-grandparent.
I want to punch Scrabble and its smug 10-point Z tiles right where it counts—namely those 101 2-letter words—because they are a reminder of how inept I am. I like to avoid humiliation at all costs, so why would I belly up to the coffee table and let my friends and family in on the fact that my English degree was a waste, along with that dictionary I got for my 16th birthday? What good is it knowing big words when I get routinely trounced by xi, qi, and do re mi?
I may not get the triple-letter score but I do have a five-fingered fist that will produce a five-point word. In a word, OW.
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