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Friday, March 5, 2010

7:55 - I could say I left Princeton later than I'd hoped because I needed to deliver some test results, but loyal readers know what I was really doing to pay for my weekend Scrabbling. Anyway, with 226 miles to drive, at least four hours on the East Coast, and the tournament starting at 9:00 AM (why so early, for just six games???), I was already looking at a sleep-deprived Saturday morning.

8:32 - Exited the NJ Turnpike at Elizabeth.

8:45 - Cleared the toll plaza.

9:21 - Reentered the turnpike with my yummy Colombian food.

9:45 - Reached the George Washington Bridge.

9:50 - Scratched my nuts.

10:02 - Cleared the toll plaza.

10:07 - Reached the NY Thruway (New England section) toll plaza.

10:10 - Scratched my nuts again.

10:14 - Cleared the toll plaza.

10:27 - Hit traffic thru Stamford thanks to some dumbfucks who had a wreck.

11:18 - Blue pills.

12:20 - Reached the Charlton City service area.



Saturday, March 6, 2010

7:34

8:25 - Reached Worcester in time to get lost before finding the Starbucks. Discovered that my Saratoga Springs blog had finally hit 200 views, no thanks to Sherrie and her petty spirit of vengeance. 200 was important, because, like a deity derives its power from worship, I derive my power from attention. I was worried that with too few views, I was going to tank in Worcester.

8:43 - Reached the Worcester Hibernian Cultural Center in time to chill out and work on setting the proper attitude. Given how well I'd been doing, it was only logical that I would have a disastrous tournament sooner or later. I decided that I was going to lose all 6 games. If I prepareed for the worst, I thought, I could not be disappointed. Losing all 6 would drop me to 1836, and I could live with that.






First up, Richard Buck, and I won handily with overwhelming luck.

Annotated Game


My tiles in that game were good enough that my mind started to wander, and had time to look around the room. I of course noticed that Kristy (or Krissy, or something like that) girl from Cape Cod, boyfriended, and a member of the Worcester club, Melissa something, married to an Armenian. I shook my head, though, and I made an effort to shift my focus away from them, as they were members of the unfairer sex, and I really needed to be focusing my energies elsewhere. To my left was Evans Clinchy, and I had to wonder if he was a candidate.











.











A candidate for what, you wonder? Well, clearly for my final transition to full homosexuality, and my escape from the tyranny that is attraction to the female sex. After the events of Albany, you would think that the transition would have been easy, but can I help it if I was born defective? Fortunately, I was not starting from zero.

The groundwork for my transition was laid long, long ago on a night when I, as I had often done since, chose the road not taken. I was in the eight grade, and my best friend was Tracy Peterson. One night at his house, during a sleepover, we lay in bed and discussed the various girls we had crushes on. Cindy was the object of my affection, that month, and I expressed in pretty graphic detail what I wanted her to do to me.

In a different time, a different life, I would have left it at that and gone to sleep, but even from a young age I was a creative child, and perhaps that is why it occurred to me that a blowjob from a girl's mouth should be indistinguishable from that of a boy's mouth. Years later, when I would discover that all male best friends were not, in fact, giving each other blowjobs, I assumed this had to be because it just hadn't occurred to them. But it did occur to me, and Tracy, after hemming and hawing a bit, decided it was worth trying. I was so scared when I took him in my mouth, but after he finished, and I tasted the peppermint, I knew I had stumbled onto something great (I hadn't even discovered masturbation at that age).

I continued to look forward to sleepovers with Tracy for the rest of that school year, and throughout the 9th grade as well, all the while never realizing that there was such a thing as homosexuality. I still pursued every girl who even glanced at me, and because I led a rather sheltered life with parents who never discussed these topics, I just wasn't aware of the existence of gay people. I though male friends just blew each other in the same way they played catch or chess, with no emotion attached to it whatsoever.

After the ninth grade our family moved to a different part of Houston, and I went to a different school. I did not make friends easily, and went through the entire 10th grade without a best friend, and focused on trying to get a date with this girl or that girl. Even though I was as randy as you would expect a teenage boy of that age to be, I did not approach any of the boys at the school about mutual blowjobs because Trace, shortly after we began doing it, told me that only the closest of friends did this, and that I shouldn't just ask anybody I didn't know well. I didn't understand completely at the time, but eventually the reason would become clear.

The reason became clear in the 11th grade, when I became friends with a classmate named David Lodge... but only briefly. We had started off as "enemies" in my first year at the school, but, just like the guidance counselor predicted, we soon put our differences aside. Until I invited him over to my house to practice chess and decided it was time to broach the subject. His response was not what I expected, and our friendship quickly dissolved. I don't know if he told the others at the school. It would have been hard to tell either way, because I was an unpopular student for a host of other reasons.

After that incident, I became fully aware that there are gays in the world, and that the population at large didn't seem to like them. I was sure, without a doubt in my mind, that I was not gay, because I didn't feel anything for boys. Still, I didn't think people were going to buy this, so I laid low for the rest of my time in high school. Flash forward to college, and life in the dorms. In my fourth year, when I was in a coed dorm, and discover just how advantageous that is, sexwise, but for the first two years I was in an all-male dorm (Brackenridge, which would later become coed).

After what had happened with David, I was for a long time hesitant to make any suggestions to my first college roommate, Boyd Fenton. A few months later, though, after listening to Boyd complain over and over about how he wasn't getting anywhere with this girl or that girl, and after reading The Thin Red Line, I decided he might be receptive.

Never underestimate the power of the male sex drive. In prison, in war, it supercedes any aversion to homosexuality, and the same applies in college dorm rooms. Boyd and I took care of each other for the rest of the semester, and that's when I learned about the pleasure of anal sex. I'd heard and read about how it was supposed to hurt, but that's just not true at all. With breath control and a relaxed mind, anal intercourse can be extremely pleasurable. Remember that ladies, and give it a try ASAP--whoever is telling you it hurts is lying to you. Anyway, I still have fond memories of that night that I penetrated Boyd for the first time. I went to sleep exhausted, but in the morning I was eager for a repeated. As soon as I heard Boyd waking up, I peered down from my bunk and asked him, "Wanna try another stick?"

My next two roommates did not strike me as open minded, and in my fourth and fifth years I had in-dorm girlfriends and regular sex. Once I graduated high school I put a lot of time, and had quite a bit of success, into getting dates, during the time when I wasn't married or seeing Sandra. I didn't really have need of male company, not until a few years later when I had to do those six months in Huntsville. Bear this in mind guys (and girls, I guess)--if you walk into prison and resist the large inmate who propositions you, you're going to get a beatdown. But if you take care of him with gusto, and do a good job (that's where all those years of practice come in), not only will you have somebody to watch your back, but you'll get to keep your front teeth too.

As I explained in a previous blog, when I got out of prison I tried to experience as many women as possible. This led to massive debt, a failed attempt at a drug dealing career, and eventual bankruptcy (I really should create a timeline of all this history--I wouldn't want to be inaccurate). Being broke not only cut down on the hookers and strippers, but it even affected my ability to take regular women out on expensive dates, and that of course affected my ability to get that sweet lovin'. Y'all know what Kanye West sang, and that brother ain't never been wrong.

That pretty much brings the story up to my discovery of Word Freak, and the promise that it held of finding a bottomless well of ass within the Scrabble community. It wasn't long after that my hopes of finding my soul mate across the Scrabble board began to be shattered, starting with the likes of Christiane and Prairie Dog, Becky and Jean, and progressing across the years to vixens like Karen, Alyssa, Connie, KC, Dielle, and so many others I can't name them all. With each heartbreak, the idea that I was barking up the wrong tree grew stronger and stronger in my mind. I'd say that barely two years into Scrabble I was already considering switching teams, because when I saw Nathan Benedict at the '04 NSC, for the first time since '03 Reno, I saw him in a differently light and distinctly asked myself if he could be a candidate. A few days later when we played a game or two out in the lobby, and I decided he was definitely a candidate, #101. Years later, while passing through Tucson, I called Nathan up about playing a few games at a local Starbucks. He beat me soundly, and while Nathan is an excellent player, I'm sure my game was affected by the fact that I was distracted with thoughts of whether he could be the one to finally turn me.

Speaking of Dielle, that's a curious case in and of itself. I think I first met her at the '05 NSC, and of course I was smitten right away. Yes, my tastes actually lean towards white chicks, but for some reason I perceive some Indians, Dielle included, as lily-white. Same goes for her brother Dean, and the same principle applies to people like Cesar del Solar (he'll come up later). Anyway, the funny thing about Dielle is that my intution might have been wrong--it might not be she who is meant for me at all, but rather her brother Dean, candidate #42. I remember beating Dean at an '06 Portland tournament. I played COAGENT, and he paid me a compliment. There was something about the way he said "good play" that indicate there might be a spark there. I couldn't be reading too much into that, could I?

But I still haven't fully explained what a candidate is, have it? To understand, you have to understand that in all the years since I discovered that male-on-male sex can be a perfectly fine substitute for the female body, I had never kissed a male, nor had the desire to. I discovered just how much this was the case one night, after a date with a reasonably attractive brunette, from IRC, that went nowhere, probably because I made the mistake of showing discomfort at how much money I was spending on drinks for her and her friend who had shown up at the bar. You know how it is--a woman even sniffs that your wallet might not be bottomless, and she's outta their. I should have gone home and just rubbed one out, but instead I got back online and soon found myself driving over to the apartment of some guy named Chad who professed to be extremely horny. We got right to it, and after had just finished swallowing his peppermint sweetness Chad surprised me by reaching over, grabbing me, and kissing me full on. I was even more surprised by my reaction. I recoiled in horror and hit him square on the jaw as I backed away. My surprise quickly turned to disgust, and to anger, and while he was still in shock I attacked him visciously, hitting him again and again while calling him a faggot and asserting that I wasn't no fag. I decided that was it for me and men, and I kept to that until financial necessity forced me to start sucking Cocke for Scrabble, but at least then I was able to keep it strictly business--NO KISSING!!!

If it's not clear, then, what I would later start seeking was a candidate to convert me to full homosexuality, in heart, not just in body. I needed to be able to feel something for males, instead of just fucking them, and I needed to be able to share in the intimacy of a kiss without wanting to throw up. Wow, but that was a long (but entirely relevant) digression.


Getting back to the Scrabble (as this is, ostensibly, a Scrabble blog), I went into my 2nd game with the knowledge that losing the next five would put me around 1852. Not only could I live with that, but 1850+ was a perfectly respectable rating. Thus I was not at all feeling traumatized when Bradley Whitmarshed bingoed along a line I was powerless to block, with ERICOID for 92 to empty the bag and take a 47-point lead. Up to that point I had pretty much bagged him, and all of a sudden I realized I was going to lose, but I was fine with that. I did not, however, give up, and the ending of that game, and the recount, was truly stunning (and requires knowing that I had undercounted my 2nd turn by SEVEN points).

Annotated Game


Two wins, now up to 1868 if I won no more. I felt mighty fine as I moved on to Jere Mead.

Annotated Game


Having won three games, I saw that a 3-3 record would put me at 1884, barely a drop. At that point I threw out my rational pessimism, stopped thinking about the worst case scenario, and started thinking that I could definitely win 1 of the next 3 and hit 1900 (even if I played Buck twice).

I could have eaten at the pub, but I wanted to snag a plate or to-go container for my Colombian food, so I headed out. From the venue Cultural Centre, I went down Temple, left on Green, and I found myself passing a host of Vietnamese restaurants and businesses. Who woulda thunk it, a little Saigon in Worcester, MA. But my surprise at that paled in comparison to my amazement when I reached an intersection known as Kelly Square, where seven roads come together. I had no idea how to get across, but I managed, and then back around to find a parking spot, all the while thinking that there must be wrecks here all the time. I mentioned this to the waitress at Kelly Square Pizza, and she and some of the other patrons laughed knowingly. Yes, there are wrecks every day, and according to the waitress the intersection was depicted on YouTube.






Okay, y'all can say it (especially you, Idalski). The game that locked in my 1900, much to Bruce Adams' displeasure, was a luckbag game. I can't fully credit myself for SUB(T)EENs, because I wasn't sure. Same goes for LA(B)IATES, and the extra turn, again because I wasn't sure. And ALIENOR(S) was just a gimme. Tiles were so good I was able to squander that second blank in the end game (although the lost spread would cost me).

Annotated Game


Just like in the Buck game, my mind started to wander, and I became aware of the sad, sad fact that the field was missing the long-since departed and missed Jesse Day, candidate #226. As loyal readers might have guessed, Jesse is definitely a candidate. Jeremy Cahnmann on several occasions insisted that people had been thinking I had a crush on Jesse, and I always protested to Jeremy that this was ridiculous. Why would anybody have thought that? Certainly not because of this blog. Thing of it is, that blog didn't actually tell the whole story.

Yes, I stopped at an adult bookstore named Fritz the Cat, and yes, the video booth had a large hole in it, and yes, a bespectacled old man made me an indecent proposal. Except I didn't actually turn him down. See, I had spent much of the drive back from Dayton thinking about Jesse and what an amazing male specimen he was, in person, and by the time I entered Fritz's I was randy as the proverbial cocker spaniel.

The old man wasn't the least bit attractive, but my capacity for creativity knows no limits. I happened to have a printout of a photo of Jesse in my back pocket, and I also happened to have a roll of duct tape in another pocket (useful stuff, that duct tape). By taping the photo on the wall in front of me, and because the hole in the wall of the booth was just only enough for the old man to stick his ass through, I did not have to look at him. I was able to focus on the picture of Jesse as I banged that geezer in the ass (that's what he wanted), and I really managed to fool myself because I started moaning, "Jesse, Jesse, oh Jesse, JESSE, JESSE, OOOOH JESSEEEEEE!!!"

Between the moaning and the sound of my balls slapping against the wall while I ignored the splinters, I missed the sound of the dogs until it was too late. Next time I knew the sound of the dogs and men shouting echoed throughout the building, I heard men shouting about the cops, and a drug raid. Dammit, I didn't need to get caught up in all of that. I quickly pulled up my pants, but I didn't have time to ditch the condom or clean off the motor old. Yeah, you heard me right, motor oil. When the old man said he had lube, I assumed it would be something like K-Y, and I was surprised when grandpa handed me a plastic bottle of 5W-40. He said it was good for his prostate. Okay, whatever.

Outside the booth, men were running every which way, while cops kept them from leaving. Some headed for the back door, but I figured the cops would have it covered. The bookstore was really big though, and the cops couldn't keep track of everybody quickly enough. I spotted a booth with an out-of-order sign on the door, and I went inside. The booth doors did not extend all the way to the floor, so one could see which booths were occupied, and this worked to my advantaged. I was able to wedge myself midway up the booth, by pressing my feet against one wall and my arms against the other, just like you've seen people do in the movies. I couldn't keep that up forever, but as I hoped when the cops passed by then never bothered to open the door.

I got away that day, really lucked out and escaped, but the same couldn't be said of my fifth-round game against Rod McNeil. Speaking of Rod, he would be #51 if he were a candidate, but he's probably not. I don't know Rod's history, but he strikes me as a little too street, like a guy who's seen a bar fight or two, maybe even been in handcuffs a few times. When I find the right candidate, I'm sure he has to be somebody tender, not at all the rough and tumble character that seems to be lurking under Rod's brainy exterior.

And there is not denying brainy, when you see how to managed his win against me. I was amazed. He got down a helluvah play, cAPRIOL(E). That C was exactly the right tile to make the blank, because otherwise my counterplay would have ended his chances. That's why he's the strongest player in the field, no matter what the ratings say.

Annotated Game


Ah, well, my luck couldn't last forever.

Annotated Game


Unfortunately, Jere Mead not only beat me, but he had more spread than I did going into that game, and he passed me up for 1st place. I was thus going to place 2nd for the 3rd time in a row, and for the 3rd time in a row fail to catch Bradley's 8 tourney wins.

On the other hand, 4 wins put me at 1900 exactly, and that particular had the power of being 1 point ahead of Jason Idalski and Brian Bowman's peaks, and thus particularly irksome to them both. Of course, if I ended up bumping them out of the premier, they would each win $25 off me--a small price to pay for the fun I'd have with that.

Before leaving I took one more look at Evans and was still unsure if he was a candidate. Well, I did know one thing for certain, that all that facial hair wasn't going to work for me. I don't know who the right candidate will end up being, but I guaran-damn-tee you that he won't have any facial hair. Thinking about yucky facial hair reminds me of Cesar del Solar, candidate #117, and how he almost disqualified himself from candidatehood at the Orlando NSC, when he showed up with the most hideous moustache I'd ever seen. Any visions I'd had of kissing Cesar without feeling disgust and revulsion quickly disappeared when I saw that 'stache. Thank heavens he shaved it off.

I think I was considering Cesar as a candidate way back in '07, in Dayton. I remember that he, another player (Gabriel Wong perhaps), and I walked around town looking for this cool restaurant I had spotted the previous day. As we walked I decided to probe Cesar, and I asked if he was gay. Cesar was a little indignant, and brough up his girlfriend, a girl whom I have often heard referenced but never actually seen.

A few years later, when I drove into the L.A. area to catch a flight to Chile, I called up Cesar and asked if wanted to play some games. Cesar suggested picking up some food and playing at his apartment, and I wondered if that might be the right time to "probe" Cesar further as a potential candidate. Unfortunately, his moms was staying with him, so that didn't work out at all.



Sunday, March 7, 2010

7:14 - Woke up earlier than I had hoped, at a rest area on I-84. People may not believe it, but sleeping in my Honda Fit is very comfortable, and I usually can't tell the difference between my car and a bed, except for the cold. That night, however, sleep was hard to come by, because of the pain in my chest.

A couple of weeks earlier I had decided I needed some professional help to make that final transition to male love, < a href=http://philosophy.suite101.com/article.cfm/true_love_and_looking_for_the_original_half>considered superior by the Greek philosophers. Lacking health insurance, I went to Craig's List, and I found a Dr. Sanada in a small New Jersey town, Tustin. During my first visit he said he needed to test me, and he strapped electrodes to my head and sat me down in front of a computer that displayed a variety of images. When the test was complete, he said to me, "for every man there is a scale on one side of the scale there is gay... on the other side, straight. This machine tells us how the scale is balanced. Yours tipped the wrong way."

Dr. Sanada said that he could fix me, and he scheduled me to come back in the following week. When I returned, Dr. Sanada led me to his basement and into a very strange room filled with all sorts of odd looking equipment. The doctor had me lie on a table, and after he strapped me in he proceeded to attached electrodes to my chest. I figured this was some type of aversion therapy, and I was eager to get started.

My eagerness quickly disappeared when Dr. Sanada turned the machine on, and a sharp pain shot through my chest. I tried not to scream, but after a few seconds the good doctor turned a dial on a machine, and the pain increased. I screamed and I screamed, and I shouted, "Why? Why are you doing this???"

Eventually the doctor turned off the machine, and he turned to me and asked, "why did you come back here, to me."

Dazed and weak, I responded, "I came back here because I was broken, and I was stupid enough to think this place could fix me."

"Have faith," the Dr. Sanada replied. "You should see some results in good time. If you don't take this." He handed me a blue-green pill and assured me that if my problem did not seem to have gone away, taking the pill would help ease my burden. I still have that pill, and every time I see a woman and feel a tinge of longing, I wonder if it is time to take the pill.

9:15 - The upshot of not having been able to sleep was that I arrived early at the tournament, and I had time to prepare psychologically for the fearsome field of sub-1400 players that was arrayed before me.


Mike Lally - Annotated Game


Sue Gable - Annotated Game


Frances Shaw - Annotated Game


Joel Bailey - Annotated Game


Playing Joel Bailey of course reminded me of Brian (probably no relation), candidate #8. I first had the idea that Brian might be a candidate a few years back at a Saratoga Springs tournament that turned out to be a disaster for Brian. His heart had been broken by, who else, Caitlin Fairchild, and he appeared very vulnerable. There was probably no better time to hold him gently and see if his lips could break the spell that women have had over me since I was young, but I was not yet desperate enough. Instead, I just tried to comfort him with a couple of hundred bucks and the phone number of this pro I knew down in Albany who would hook him up with some blow and do things to him that would make him forget any girl her ever knew. Did he take the money and run? Well, that's a story for him to tell.


I gotta say, Mike Lally is setting the bar pretty high with the food he prepares for these tournaments. This time--chicken, rice, and lentils. Mm... mm... good.


Now, on to the real players.


David Stone - Annotated Game


Eric Goldstein - Annotated Game


And finally, Chris Lipe, definitely a candidate, #15. No, I'm not referring to the BAT Premier. Lipe, with his charming looks and resemlanced to a certain boy wizard, has to be a candidate to transform me into a superior being, lovewise. What powers might be contained within his magic wand, I wonder? Fortunately, his tiles were not magical that day, and I was able to extend my record to 7-0, win the tournament, and guarantee another ratings gain. After the tournament, Chris had to think about going to Elyria and trying to boost his rating there. He asked me about the possibility of carpooling, and my mind immediately began to think about the possibilities. Two randy men trapped in a car for hours? There were definitely possibilities there. Unfortunately, by mid-week Chris reported that he had decided to "man up" and make the drive himself. Too bad Chris didn't realize that riding with me might have allowed him to "man up" in a completely different way.

Annotated Game


Final round, the piece de resistance, the 8th win in a row to boost me to to a most unexpected 1934!

Annotated Game

Analysis

#1 - W - Lally    
--------------    
0 ZIP  
0 R(I)DGY  
49.1 challenge SPINEtS CAR(E)TOOK
32.3 KOA  
2 COL  
0.3 GR(I)TTY (S)IXTY
0 (T)AXI  
0 (R)EBEC  
0 JI(L)L(S)  
1.7 RETINTS  
0 WOG  
0 REANN(EX) RANEE
11.5 FROE (avoid opening board and Q stick)  
13.2* V(AN)  
0 QUIR(E)  
--- BUM(F)  
--- U(M)  
     
     
#2 - W - Gable    
--------------    
2.7 TONY  
0 JET  
3.3 HIK(E)  
2.6 DARBIES  
5.4 C(I)TY  
8.3 (G)IE  
13 EL  
10 SNOW  
36 challenge RUCHE  
0.8 BI  
9.6 ASIDE  
12.3 AUsTERE  
9.5 AG must block possible ERASION
0 PA  
3 OF  
     
     
#3 - W - Shaw    
-------------    
0 JINN  
28.6 challenge (JINN)I  
2.8 BEG  
13.8 TELL(Y)  
3.8 WIG  
0 COARSEN  
0 ALOE  
7.2 LOAD  
0 Y(ET)  
5.5 UNITARD  
0 FOH  
16.2 HO/O(T)*  
86 pass to avoid Q Quackle is inase
9 CAVE  
0 R(A)VE  
     
     
#4 - W - Bailey    
---------------    
14.5 DROSS FOSS
0 AWFUL  
6.8 QUERN  
0 AGIO  
11.4 PO(L)E EpOPEES
7.5 ESCApEE 11G  
2.7 MAV(I)E  
2 FL(A)GON  
3.7 N(E)TT  
0 (R)IDGE  
20.3 DEY unsure of (DROSS)Y
8 LOTA AUKLET
0 BUD  
0 K(EF)  
     
     
#5 - W - Stone    
--------------    
57.8 NOUGHT THOUING (only 90% sure)
0 VININ(G)  
0 RUI(N)ATES  
3.1 GRAD(S) GLAD(S)
0 T(I)DAL  
1.9 F(I)D  
0 SATIABL(E)  
12.3 QU(A)  
3.3 JOKE  
6.5 GH(A)T  
0 VIZIER  
0 SaC CUr(I)OS
     
     
#6 - W - Goldstein    
------------------    
1.3 VOLTI  
0 Z(O)NAL  
1.8 R(I)FF  
5.3 OAR OUTRAN too risky
33.4 LOUDEN (R)OUNDLET
4.1 MOTH  
0 (B)LINI  
0 QAT  
42.4 J(OI)N (uncertain of (SPINTO)S so block) miss (TUBA)E hook
0 GIGUE  
14.4 EWERS miss (TUBA)E
0.9* HOE  
4.9* (E)M (block bingo from E just in case)  
96 STYE (D)ECRYpTS
0 CR(E)d  
     
     
#7 - W - Lipe    
-------------    
0 KAY  
18.4 LEVO  
0 BE(LO)NG  
3.5 CHAFE  
6.1 GRILL  
3.4 B(O)NED  
8.6 D(E)NY  
0 R(A)J  
0 MOW  
0 tAENIAS pAESANI
0 PAD  
     
     
#8 - W - Goldstein    
------------------    
11.1 HOG PHOTOG
0 TEMPO  
0 AvOWING  
0 KAB  
0 MINCY  
2.1 -EIILOQ (E)  
0 VOWEL  
0 SIZES  
53.8 GID  
6.7 ANE  
2.6 JO  
0 PEERIES  


1 - W - 7.3
2 - W - 7.8 (116.5)
3 - W - 8.5 (127.7)
4 - W - 5.5 (76.9)
5 - W - 7.1 (84.9)
6 - W - 13.6 (204.5)
7 - W - 3.6 (40)
8 - W - 6.4 (76.3)


Avg: 7.5
#1 - W - Buck    
-------------    
0 LOACHES  
0 BEGOTTE(N)  
1.4 MONTANE(S) MA(G)NETON
0 (B)OOGIE  
11.3 RE(E)FY FU(M)Y
14 PU(M)A ADO(Z)E/(M)A/(O)D/(N)E/(A)E
0.6 OUT(FE)D*  
6.7 VE(G)  
3.9 AA  
4.8 (T)H(E)  
23.9 REV (block)  
0.3 T(A)X(I)TE  
60 lose turn (PAWK*) and fail to block dIURNAL(S)3  
36 challenge URANIc  
     
     
#2 - W - Whitmarsh    
------------------    
0.3 JO(T)A  
6.1 SLEEKeD SKELpED
1.3 GAY  
2.2 RUIN  
14.5 NAYS SONSY,RAYONS
0 Q(A)T  
33.1 (T)ORS PROSERS,PR(I)ORESS,(A)SPERSOR
0 M(A)NROPES PROM(I)NES
2.9 TAW  
6.7 EGG  
5 B(I)Z  
0 CLEF  
     
     
#3 - W - Mead    
-------------    
0 (Q)UAG  
1.6 DIED  
0 EEK  
2.6 DUO  
0 AGE  
9.1 VIOLATE VO(L)ATILE
0 ZAP  
22.1 SAT STANNuM,MANT(LI)NgS
10.9 (Y)UM  
0 ANNOyER  
8.2 JAN(E) block JEF(E)
0 REFIX  
6 Bi(T)  
     
     
#4 - W - Adams    
--------------    
0 PRY PINERY
20.8 ONE (P)ENSIONE
0 ZIG  
1.9 SUB(T)EENs  
0 LA(B)IATES SATIA(B)LE
0 PUNA  
0 ALIENO(R)  
4.6 OH  
3.2 (E)RG  
5.4 GE(D)  
5.1 METE  
2.9 M(A)  
11.1 TA(XI)  
5 K(IT)  
81 LI(E) (S)INgULAR,(S)ILURiAN
3 (T)RUANt (J)URANt
     
     
#5 - L - McNeil    
---------------    
0 WAE  
16.4 (AR)gONAUTS  
0 VANILL(A)S  
6.1 Q(A)T  
0.3 H(U)N  
0 ZOA  
13.4 G(A)IN  
0 V(I)G  
0 (S)PEEDIER  
8.6 BEE  
0 MI  
15 GL(O)M  
1 (BI)TT  
     
     
#6 - L - Mead    
-------------    
0 -EGIIIU (E)  
1.4 WAGER  
0 ACORN  
14.5 AA (K)INARA
0 RADIANS  
2.9 YUP  
0 (R)IFFED  
0 YOM  
2 OI  
0 AJIV(A)  
0 CUM  
28.9 O(OH)  
0 (G)REES  
0 TIE  


1 - W - 11.6 (162.9)
2 - W - 6.0 (72.1)
3 - W - 4.7 (60.5)
4 - W - 9 (144)
5 - L - 4.7 (60.8)
6 - L - 3.6 (49.7)


Avg: 6.6



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