Playing Games on My Phone Has Become a Real Pain
Can I just say my butt hurts? Actually, I would be writing it. And I just did, so…that’s that. I’m guessing the question burning in your fertile mind right now is not how Stephen Colbert or Jimmy Kimmel managed to convince so many people that they were funny enough to have late night talk shows. Alas, dear readers, I expect you are wondering what is causing such discomfort and angst for my posterior?
In a word, Connections.
Yes, my friends. The mobile game that so easily reveals that a person’s command of the English language is just slightly better than what might be found among residents of Bangladesh has become a pain in my backside. Literally. If you don’t know why, just think about your own experiences when combining the loo, as the British would say, with a cell phone.
A King on His Throne
While the British may call their toilets loos, we have our own creative names for that piece of bathroom architecture that serves the purpose of collecting waste materials and sending them to destinations unknown. We call it the ‘can’, the ‘head’, and even the ‘john’ (my sincere apologies to all of you named after someone considered quite saintly by certain religious groups). But my personal favorite is the ‘throne’.
Yes, indeed. I almost always feel like a king when I am doing my business. I call the shots in the bathroom. No one looks over my shoulder to tell me the proper way to do what I’m doing. And if someone dared try, I would simply extend my hand and say, “Here. Pull my finger.”
Of course, doing so would be a fatal mistake on the other person’s part. Why? Because one tug of the finger would unleash a toxic cloud of gaseous secretions that would otherwise be sent to nether regions. Not only does said gas make one’s eyes water, it also peels paint and can clean the rust off a ’72 Pinto that has been sitting in your grandfather’s barn since Nixon resigned.
Your Logic Astounds Me
So anyway, let’s not get distracted by noxious fumes and pulling fingers on the loo. We need to get back to the main point: a painful posterior induced by spending too much time sitting on the toilet trying to finish Connections.
If you’ve never played Connections, don’t. Just run. Connections is an online game published by the New York Times, allowing Times staff persons to bore their way into our little brains and plant surreptitious thoughts we never would have had on our own.
The point of this mind teasing game from hell is to find 4 words, among a total of 16, that are connected in some way, shape, or form. You might have 4 colors, 4 different types of balls, or even 4 phases of Jim Carry’s career as an actor.
Also, the groups of Connections are designed get harder as you separate each set from the list. But give me a break. Sometimes I find myself staring at the phone and screaming, “Your logic astounds me!” For example, I was recently frustrated when I realized the creator of this game actually thinks Jim Carry was an actor at some point.
It’s Not Mind Numbing
The curious thing about Connections is that I would not consider it mind numbing. Butt numbing, by all means. But for something to be mind numbing, at least to me, requires thinking about it so long that my brain hurts. I never get to that point with Connections. My butt hurts from sitting on the toilet way before my brain lapses into similar bouts of muscle cramps.
I’m not quite sure who comes up with the Connections words. One thing I can say is that his, her, or its command of the English language is better than your local Bangladeshi. Not by much, but it’s still better. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a game of Wordle to finish.
