More How To Become a Sophisticate By Expanding Your Vocabulary Online While Wasting Time

Hello, linguists.

A few months back, when I was still fairly new to the addiction known as Text Twist (TT), I did a blog about the ins and outs of the game. "Ins" and "outs" being two words perfectly legal on the TT board. "Ins" gives you "sin," and "outs" gives you "out" and "oust." And "sot," if you leave out the u. Just in case you were wondering.

During that blog I gave a rather lengthy explanation of Text Twist People (TTP) words, and how you had to find those words to fit in the word grid, whether you knew the words or not. So when a word came up you'd never heard before, you just had to memorize it and realize it would show up another time. Words like ort, ted, sere, rhea, roc, and hafted. I then took the trouble, for you, my dear blogees, for I didn't give a flip as long as they got me points, yes, I went to the trouble to look them all up and give you their definitions.

I really shouldn't have done that.

I shouldn't have done that at all, because now when words come up I don't know, I take the time to wonder what they could mean. And as we all know, thinking is a definite minus in the Text Twist World (TTW). Thinking takes seconds, and seconds tick away, and words go unfound. Unfound. Seven letters. Will not show up on the Text Twist Board (TTB).

About four months have passed since that first blog. My goal at that time was to score 200,000 points. Today, that's a slow session. My highest score is in the 1.45 million range, and that happened last week. Then Stennie suggested we both reboot our computers to make the podcast recording go smoothly (smoothly - 8 letters - right out on the TTB), and when I did, I lost my highest score ever. I put that thought away, but fear that one night when I get drunk and angry, that thought may come crashing back.

Anyway, if you're interested in becoming one of those people who bores party guests to tears with your infinite wisdom vis a vis the English language, or you're just thinking of becoming a Text Twist Addict (TTA) yourself, which I don't recommend because it's quite maddening, I thought I'd give you the latest round of word definitions. Oh, but before I do, I may have a little correction to make. I went on and on in that first blog about the word "arces." How I couldn't find a definition for it anywhere. Don't quote me on this, but I'm beginning to believe this could possibly be because arces is not actually a word. I've seen plenty of "arcs," and a few "arced"s in my game, but never again an "arces," so maybe I was confusing the two words and combining them into one. Because I'm an idiot (I).

OK, here we go. Play along with Bet, and tell me how many of these you already knew.

Ret - Ret comes up all the time on the old TTB, because it contains three very popular letters. It's right up there with ted and ort. I kind of forgot about my old friend "ret" the first time around. Ret has nothing to do with carpetbaggers ravaging Southern women during the Civil War. It means "to soak," as in fibers. Well, that's nice. If everyone remembers correctly, ted means "to dry." So you ret and you ted, and you retted, which is a six letter word on the TTB. By the way, I pronounce ret "ret," not "rit," as people seem to mistakenly believe when I pronounce "pen" and "pin."

Wadi - The first time I saw "wadi" on the TTB, I thought it had to be a computer malfunction, or the TTP were pulling my leg (L). But no, "wadi" does appear from time to time. To me, it's a nonsense word, a lyric from a 50s doo-wop song: Boom boom shoo bop bop wadi wadi. But apparently this is not the case. A wadi is the bed of a stream in regions of Asia and Africa, which is dry until the rainy season, then forms an oasis. It's a gully. ("Gully" - five letters. Also gives you "gull" and "guy.")

Weir - Not "wire," though "wire" also gives you "weir" on the TTB. And "ire," but that's just showing off. Also, much to my chagrin, it is not meant to be the family featured in the much beloved and one-seasonal TV show "Freaks and Geeks." A weir is a fence or enclosure in a stream for taking fish. Hey, that's what the dictionary says, don't ask me, "Taking them where?" for I do not know. It's also a dam. "Dam." Gives you "mad." By the way if you have a d on your "weir" board, watch out - wire, wired, weir, weird, ire, red, dew, wed, dire, rid, ride, die, wide - you could blow the game wide open!

Dory - This is not that little explorer girl all the kids love nowadays. Her name is Dora. Unless there's one out there I don't know about. Dory the Actuory. No, that's stupid, it's actuary, but "Dora" doesn't really rhyme with "explorer" anyway, unless you have a weird accent. Anyway, back to dory. Apparently, well, not apparently, it's right here in black and white, a dory is a flat-bottomed boat with high flaring sides, a sharp bow, and a V-shaped transom. As in, "Dora the Explorer got a little too close to the dory, tumbled, and put her eye out on the sharp bow. And her little monkey friend laughed. Because he was a monkey."

Rood - Rood? "Surely the TTP do not know how to spell," was my reaction the first time I saw "rood" come up on the board. Was it some spoonerism? Hobin Rood? Wed Rood Forest? I like "rood," because it's the reverse of "door" and therefore always gives you an extra word, but let's face it. It's a silly-looking word. It's also religious, because it means "a crucifix," which goes against the TTP's "No Biblical Words (NBW) rule," but they use "cross" and "church," so I'll let it go.

Spall - No, not the brilliant British actor in all the Mike Leigh movies. That's Timothy, and even though that's a seven letter word, it would be out because it's a proper name. As would Tim as well, and Dory if it was the actuary and not the sharp-bowed boat. A spall is a tiny fragment or chip of stone. Timothy Spall's quite a large fellow. And Chip is also a name, but the TTP allow it, because it also means, well, a chip. And gives you "hip."

Dross - It's always nice to learn a new five-letter word. No matter how good you are at Text Twist (TT), and I'm quite good indeed if I do say so myself, five-letter words are always something of a crapshoot. (Nine letters - right out. However, both "crap" and "shoot" are eligible for points. As are "carp" and "hoots.") Now, if you're Southern, and I mean really Southern, more Southern than I could ever dream of being, "dross" could be your underwear, or those things you pull out of chest bureaus where you put your clothes. "Darlin', my chest of dross is almost full." (By the way, when I was growing up, there was a kid in our neighborhood who swore it was Chester drawers.) Anyway, "dross" is the scum that forms on molten metal, now that's specific, or waste or foreign matter. As in, "Darlin', there seems to be some dross in my dross."

Speaking of words, I had an interesting occurrence at work last week. I had to call the Virginia Department of Worker's Compensation. When I did, I got the obligatory "press one, press two" spiel, and it went on forever, "Press one if you need to report a claim, press two if you need a tax ID number," and when the recorded voice got to about eight it was, "Press eight if you need an ombudsman." Such a foreboding word, ombudsman, and yet funny at the same time. I imagined a lone man in a small office, behind a desk, wearing an African headdress and holding a spear, or in a black tuxedo and wearing a red fez. Sitting there patiently, waiting for the poor soul who needed an ombudsman.

Obviously, I don't know what an ombudsman is. It's nine letters, so I don't have to worry about it on the TTB, but if I don't know what it is, how will I know when I need one?

I hope if I do, he brings his fez.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners, we have acrowinners. So, what was on your shopping list?
- Runner-Up goes to Duke, with his, "Burned Toast, Tripe, Rancid Danish Donuts."
- And this week's winner goes to LilyG, with her, " Beef testicles, turtle resin, Dunkin Donuts." Mmmm. Gotta have that turtle resin.
- Thanks to all who played! You've all done very well!