I discovered this morning, after a cup of water consumed “upside down” and a spoonful of sugar failed utterly, that a combination of adrenaline and aggravation stops hiccups cold. Which, in all likelihood, also explains why someone sneaking up and scaring the living daylights out of one works so well.

Last night in the grocery store parking lot there was a Smart Car parked near mine. The surprisingly loud panic alarm went off as I approached my vehicle. I jumped. The driver of the Smart Car appeared, coming from another lane over, and as he approached he said, “Sorry for startling you, Miss.” I replied, “That’s okay. Your car is so small I can see how you might lose it.”

I heard “Leeds United” (link to music video on YouTube) on the radio the other night. That was a strange moment, as I’ve grown accustomed to hearing some songs I like more than others, but it really is quite unusual for me to hear a song I unreservedly like which is why I primarily listen to NPR.

I bought a different car this week. It is 1999 Chevy Metro and it reminds me of driving a go-kart, which is to say, it is fun. The interior of the car had obviously been recently cleaned, but, with time spent in the vehicle, I find it was perfunctory at best. For example, there was an abandoned, broken key chain left dangling off the hinge of the driver’s side sun-shade and this morning I found a mummified french fry wedged down along the edge of the driver’s seat. It strikes me as a notable feat to miss ones mouth with a french fry. Before installing my new floor mats I will need to clean the car more thoroughly.

Speaking of which, I found floor mats with the Cheshire Cat on them. It is the Disney version, but their depiction of that particular character was not terrible — indeed it was the highlight of the film. The only thing I’ve done to the interior so far is install an air freshener, because the smell of lubricant was a bit much so now it smells like lime, vanilla and lubricant — in that order. As for the exterior, I have yet to apply it, but I found the perfect mudflap girl. In the same vein, there’s this.

I played in the annual ACBL-wide “Instant Matchpoint Game” last night. All across the country people play the same hands and ones score is compared to a predetermined set of scores generated for each hand. My long-suffering partner and I did not perform very well at all until the very last table though at that point I don’t think anything could have saved us from a dead last finish.

Still the timing for our “come back” was good in one respect, and that was those four boards were played against a pair that included a person I played with a couple of weeks back who was a terrible partner and clearly thought I should be grateful that she had deigned to play with the likes of me. I understand the frustration a player has when being paired with someone who is not at their level (it has, in fact, happened to me). Still this woman was convinced she was a much better player than I and spent her time sniffing and sighing through every auction while making egregious mistakes herself. She would reverse without having the point count to do so (ensuring we would fail to make our contract). She would pass after I had responded to her opening with a new suit (ensuring we would fail to reach game). The latter is a particularly aggravating error because at that point she can have no idea what I have in my hand (if I have not made a limiting bid). Twice she did this when I had an opening hand or better, only once were we saved by our opponents keeping the bidding open. (I was then able to force her to continue long enough to reach a reasonable contract and she acted aggrieved the entire time … right up until I made the contract with tricks to spare.) Suffices to say, I liked beating her badly; her partner was just collateral damage at that point, I mostly just felt sorry for him.

I celebrated Labor Day with a morning trip to Walmart. Having recently become acquainted with the website, People of Walmart, I had a brief moment of wrenching terror when I realized that if you are in a Walmart, but you do not see any Walmart creatures than you are the Walmart creature. As a result, I was strangely relieved when, in the office supply aisle, an elderly man approached me with a pair of full-size scissors to ask whether or not he could use them to cut his toenails. I said that wasn’t really adviseable and lead him into the cosmetics department where I endorsed my particular toenail clippers of choice. I can only hope he made the right decision.

Speaking of office supplies, I decided that I was fed up with the dictionary at work and its crumbling pages, destroyed cover and the fact it keeps wandering off only to return more damaged than before. I also decided it would be a good idea to buy some Post-it® flags to mark entries that are the most often looked up. I found it odd that those turned out to be more expensive than the dictionary.

That wasn’t as odd though as some DVDs I saw while waiting for a friend who was searching in vain for a 110/220 Volt AC adapter. These were “double features” (i.e. two films on one disc); the strange thing was the combination of movies available. Granted both “Castaway” and “Master and Commander” feature large bodies of water, but I have no idea what “Bull Durham” and “Something About Mary” have in common.

I brought home a cinnamon broom from the grocery store tonight. It is now hanging in my hallway, making my apartment smell like pie.

The first hit on Google for “cinnamon broom” is a website for witchcraft supplies that claims I should utilize the broom to sweep myself (I’m not entirely clear on the logistics of that) prior to engaging in games of chance. While duplicate bridge, strictly speaking, is not a game of chance, with the way I’ve been playing lately I should take all the help I can get.

My playing has been highly inconsistent which is just about the least desirable characteristic one can have in a partner. On the bright side, I played well all through STaC week and grabbed myself a few silver mps, but then my next two games were, at best, uninspired.

My teacher has told me that even good players make, on average, half a dozen mistakes per hand. Considering all the mistakes I catch a moment too late, I shudder to think of all the mistakes I’m not catching at all. My inability to sustain a particular standard of skill for long stretches is frustrating. I can only hope that I am, over the long run, moving in the right direction. I worry that my good games are anomalous in some way, perhaps the result of a cluster of bad bidding that happened to work just that once; and I don’t want to develop bad habits as a result.

Last night I went looking for this ‘blog by way of a Google search. I was terribly amused by the “Sponsored Link” which appeared on the right: