I am just about to complete my first game of Words With Friends. Stop. Don’t say it because I already know it. WHERE THE HELL HAVE I BEEN. Get your hands off of your hips. Stop shaking your head. I’m hopeless and, frankly, a total disappointment. I already know this because my seven-year-old told me so this morning.

I could tell you that I rarely have time for games, but then the hairs would stand up on the back of your neck and next thing you know you’re shouting at me about what a bullshit career mommyblogging is. And you’re right. Those people need to go get a real job.

But I just wasn’t paying enough attention to know that Words With Friends isn’t something you have to sit down and devote an hour to, unless of course you want to, and if you have that kind of time I wish you’d come over to my house and write about my kids for me.

So, yeah. First game. Right now there are zero letters remaining and my opponent is beating me by … wait for it … wait … you ready? TWO HUNDRED AND FIVE POINTS. For all you lazy mommybloggers out there, that’s 205. A couple hundred points more than where dignity exists.

And I was the one who played the X. I think this game defied physics.

(Opponent played amu. AMU. I’m sorry, but amu is not a word, DICTIONARY.)

And you know what? Not only am I not embarrassed to admit all this, I’ve decided that since I’m an eternal optimist I’m going to turn this into a win. I’m going to become the valedictorian of losing Words With Friends by at least 200 points.

Except then I’ll have to call it Words With Assholes and my opponents will have to call it Words With That Idiot.