Inspired by Michael 5000's Dorkfest '07 http://michael5000.blogspot.com/, I shall now present to you, my three maybe four gentle readers, clear and present examples of my dorkiness.
I have been known, on occasion, to play Speed Scrabble, which involves ditching that useless board altogether, drawing seven tiles from a mess of them in the middle of the table, then, at an agreed upon moment, assembling them as quickly as possible into words on your own private grid. Once someone has used all their letters they yell "draw two" or "draw one" if several dorks are playing. Play continues in this fashion until all the tiles are taken and played. If you're stuck you can destroy your words and start over if you think you have the time. The first person to use all their tiles wins. Uh...wins the thrill of victory as points aren't really kept, although they can be for those math dorks out there.
The best part, though, comes next. Scrabble Stories. Everyone gets ten minutes to free-write something creative and fun, creepy, silly, scary, whathaveyou as long as it contains all of the words created during Speed Scrabble. Then you go around and read your stories aloud and laugh and laugh. It's a good time. If you're a dork.
Here are two of my Scrabble Stories: (My Scrabble words appear in purple.)
The writers gathered at the inn, this time during the hottest summer on record. If only the fan worked. Nevertheless, they wrote funny pieces and slapped their knees at their jokes. At lunch, the women on diets weighed their roe to the gram, not wanting to exceed their caloric limit. Ultimately, they deemed it too expensive and axed it from their menu.
The guy didn’t care that he had HIV. He feared the smell of the hospital ward wafting from the patients who were sicker than he was. As sick as he would become. Last week, as he walked past the nurses’ station, he heard an Indian family chanting over their son. Meditation was an art form he’d never learned to appreciate. Now he wouldn’t have time to learn it. The elevator dinged, the doors opened and he stepped onto the AIDS ward for his second treatment.
My mother and I used to do the Word Jumble in the Living Section of the newspaper every single day. When I got a place of my own, we did them over the phone and on weekends when I went over to do laundry. For Mother's Day one year I hand-made a Word Jumble Mother's Day card complete with drawing and riddle. And no, I wasn't 10. I was 25 when I made this. So great is dorkiness and my love for my Ma. She loved it. Oh, yeah. She was a dork, too.