I made inappropriate jokes today at inopportune times with an unfortunate audience and somehow that saying about two wrongs not making a right, although three lefts most certainly do held so true, funny how it seems, because in the end I apparently made the right kind of impression and it was one of those days where walking down the street people meet your accidental gaze and smile. People smiled today, and I will take those smiles at face value.
This was me last night. A year ago I came here to the ocean and ran towards the beach with a bottle of gin in one hand and a pretty girl in the other and fast forward 12 months it is all distant hazy weather rising on the horizon, we found ourselves in an Irish pub playing Scrabble, and I fell in love with the bartender, and never had the common courtesy to inform her that I fall in love with everyone. Don't take it personal. The tiles in my hand presented an opportunity for a 40 point word, but I wasn't quite sure if it was a word, and of course was too embarrassed to try it out, to say it out loud, to give voice to my fear. This is how I occasionally fall short, by not saying what it is that would be so right to say. I kept not only the word, but all the individual letters close to my heart.
At the end of the game I picked up the dictionary, and there was my word, plain as day, but it caused me no heartburn. Some things are better left unsaid.
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11 comments:
Two wrongs don't make a right, but two v's make a w. Go figure. Also, I'd rather spell "el" for 1 than be wrong for 40. Risk-taking freaks me out.
I applaud your reckless use of Spandau Ballet. Also, if you can get 40 points from a single word, the risk of embarrassment and possible alienation is totally worth it.
peefer, i'd rather spell el just so that the conversation doesn't die as i'm trying to sneak a peak at i, anagram server when no one's looking. dang.
sir, i for one welcome our new alienation. lord.
oh man, i suck so hard at scrabble. lucky for me i pretty much rule at drinking.
Mmmm, gin.
Would running with gin be less or more dangerous than running with scissors?
oh, running with scissors would be far more dangerous. when you run with gin, you're at least running sloe.
Running sloe!!!
Most brilliant thing you have ever said. I need never return.
Well played indeed. Guess I better step up my game, witty-banter-wise, for TC08. Though I suppose I can always fall back on my drinking and karaoke skillz...
Whenever someone says "running with scissors," I always picture myself in a jogging suit with cross trainers and a terrycloth headband running through a park in a city that's better than my city carrying on a conversation with a giant pair of scissors that's running beside me with iPod earbuds in its giant, fingerhole ears. It's easier to picture this with scissors, which look like legs, than it is to picture it with, say, a stapler. Doing situps with a stapler? That I can picture. (You have to imagine unhinging the stapler to see it properly in your mind's eye.)
Hello, Brandon.
Sometimes when I do sit-ups I imagine I'm a stapler, binding the world's wrongs.
I think I want to try running sloe more often.
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