Monday, October 30, 2006

So ridiculously teenage

I'm unAustralian. It's the only possible explanation. I spent the entire weekend at a lovely beach house bare metres from the sand. The only time I got wet was in the shower. I only went down to the beach once, at night, and even then I was only there for as long as it took for me to get through my phone conversation.

Saturday I didn't visit the beach because I was in a reading and 'leave me the hell alone' mood. So I lay on a couch and finished my first book of the tour. An embarrassing state of affairs that I shall attempt to remedy this week with a bout of good ol' page turning.

That night we played a game of Catan. A necessary condition of my taking part was that I could be a bad loser, and sulk if I wanted to. This was to counteract my excuse for not playing, that I was turning into a bad sport and didn't wish to sulk afterwards.

I had a glass of wine, a wild turkey was off my nut. Apparently I have my mother's Cadbury tendencies. My brain was addled, but not too addled for the bout of extreme logic that sluggishly crawled through it. Firstly, I was much drunker than anyone else, despite having no more of the devil's drink. Secondly, if I couldn't win sober, there was absolutely no chance of me winning with one foot already under the table.

So I played like a monkey, made madly generous trades, viciously defended worthless territory, and snuck up on the win so subtly that people were still trading with me on the final round when I laid the smack down and played 3 points at once. Usually, when you're ahead, no-one will trade with you for fear of giving you a win, but for some reason a giggling fool lying on the floor playing with exercise equipment isn't perceived as much of a threat.

I was a little bit shocked, and a little bit disappointed that I wouldn't get to sulk after all. There's nothing more fun than a good old tanti. That's two wins to uncountable losses since the tour began, but it was such a fun win hat I may be willing to play next time.

The night continued from there, and I felt very, very juvenile. We drank, we played playstation, we debated very deep discussions that made no sense, and worst of all - we saw the sun come up. It was like being a teenager all over again, without the inconvenience of someone kicking down a fence. The flashback experience was assisted by there being three boys to one girl, about the right ratio for the hallowed Easter parties.

All that changes next week with the arrival of the long suffering maths groupies. As they are generally more important than the squadders, they shall receive complete pseudonyms instead of the lazy *! pattern that I've been following so far.

Joining us next week will be the lovely Floor, D'Urberville and Tick lady. I'll leave it to them to discern who is whom.

Not really maths thingummy #1

The words 'that' and 'had' have something very special in common. What is it?

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