So Foolish It Would Be Silly Not to Laugh
To Spend All That Time...
As anyone who might have taken a peep in the comments for my previous post will have realised, the mysterious "radinden" was actually someone I know very well quiz-wise. He was just having a bit of a festive larf with mean, bad words about how hard my quizzes were. And my word, Mr Linham found and hit the right buttons; picking out a couple of my ripe insecurities then punching them with just the right choice of vocabulary - "petty obscurities". Why I oughta!!!
Not knowing his nom d'internet and therefore assuming he was an anonymous mischief-making git who deserved a verbose takedown, I launched my somewhat "disproportionate" response, thinking this'll show the populist bugger! I have THE TRUTH. He wants to know The Truth? He couldn't handle The Truth!!! Or a number of TRUTHS, all so very devastating in their truthocity that I would be setting these truths upon the self-righteous tittering truth-ignorant troll like a pack of ravenous hounds. Who each happen to be named Trude, T. Ruth, Verity, and have other Truth-related monikers. Because they are called THE DOGS OF TRUTH.
And then I got THE REVEAL. "Oh it's you!"
Suffice to say, I did not hesitate in bloody well laughing my big stupid head off.
The following things hit me: the rancid stench of my supreme self-righteousness, a general "I am such a massive tosspot" feeling and the surreal realisation that I was aiming my attack at an invented foe constructed of my own deeply held quiz-related prejudices.
And there was no other choice than to giggle at my own silliness.
Anyhoo, let us never speak, quote, think or remind me of this ever again (c'mon, I'm asking for it ain't I? Hit me with your random quiz question criticisms written under names that make no real sense, at least to me, then sit back and watch the pride try to reassert itself in a torrent of astounding bollocks spittering-spluttering from my enraged self).
MASOQUIZM III
Buzzer quizzes, eh? Remember the pure form that lasted all day and invariably ended in victory for the team containing Bayley. Ah, wonderful days (apart from the typical losing to Bayley's team in the semis bit).
So lo and behold ... Rob has revealed in the comments that there will be a another Masoquizm - Masoquizm The Third if you will - on Saturday November 21. This year.
Unless, of course, Rob is lying and he is having another laugh! Oooh, he is such a card!
But let's assume not and praise be hallelujah. I miss you buzzer quiz (especially now I'd be a lot better at it ... mwah-hahahehe). I know a lot of you guys out there feel the same way too. Pining for the buzzer quiz like a lost, imperfect love.
Yet, of course, MQ's a different kind of buzzer quiz (the "bad love" kind) and if anything is the most marathon-like death - oh wait, the mots justes have just entered my mind EXTREME TO THE MAX X-PERIENCE- you are likely to encounter in British quiz competition. (Well, across the Atlantic it's par for the course really. They do this kind of thing all the time. We're just mighty grateful if the odd day-long buzzer quiz tournament happens every three or four years).
In its previous two guises MQ took medium-level (I think, but it wasn't uppermost A division standard) toss-ups and boni from the American NAQT ICT championship and then dumped them on us Brits in all their lonnnnnggggggggg-question form glory packed into match-after-match-after-match of occasionally, insanely unrestrained Americanness. You won't quite believe it until you've played it and are on the receiving end of a giant fist-like clump of tangentially trivia-related madness you could never hope to understand. Never ever. Ever.
I did the first one and by the end - when I watched my previously unbeaten in 14 matches team capitulate in the semis in a kind of weird silence induced by sheer exhaustion; well, I think they lost; my vision was all fuzzy, me mind fogged up and I had to run to get my train; run actually being more like "make racing tracks like a snail and try not bumping into lampposts ... and other pedestrians" - I felt like I wanted to die, but in a good way. I mean, not good, but maybe the kind of feeling that people sinking relievedly into hypothermic death feel ('I'm dying, but I can't feel a thing. Lost all sensation in my head. Yes. It's ok to sleep forever. Sink into the black') Know what I mean? Nah, me neither.
So I am blissfully happy knowing that I will be back for more - along with the Broken Hearts - to give the old brain a good battering. With heard words. Not baseball bats with nails driven into the business end.
And all the more so because Bayley has already confirmed that he's up for it. Along with Mark. We're waiting on Jesse and Sean and maybe a few others we might have to ask.
We could do alright, I suppose.
As anyone who might have taken a peep in the comments for my previous post will have realised, the mysterious "radinden" was actually someone I know very well quiz-wise. He was just having a bit of a festive larf with mean, bad words about how hard my quizzes were. And my word, Mr Linham found and hit the right buttons; picking out a couple of my ripe insecurities then punching them with just the right choice of vocabulary - "petty obscurities". Why I oughta!!!
Not knowing his nom d'internet and therefore assuming he was an anonymous mischief-making git who deserved a verbose takedown, I launched my somewhat "disproportionate" response, thinking this'll show the populist bugger! I have THE TRUTH. He wants to know The Truth? He couldn't handle The Truth!!! Or a number of TRUTHS, all so very devastating in their truthocity that I would be setting these truths upon the self-righteous tittering truth-ignorant troll like a pack of ravenous hounds. Who each happen to be named Trude, T. Ruth, Verity, and have other Truth-related monikers. Because they are called THE DOGS OF TRUTH.
And then I got THE REVEAL. "Oh it's you!"
Suffice to say, I did not hesitate in bloody well laughing my big stupid head off.
The following things hit me: the rancid stench of my supreme self-righteousness, a general "I am such a massive tosspot" feeling and the surreal realisation that I was aiming my attack at an invented foe constructed of my own deeply held quiz-related prejudices.
And there was no other choice than to giggle at my own silliness.
Anyhoo, let us never speak, quote, think or remind me of this ever again (c'mon, I'm asking for it ain't I? Hit me with your random quiz question criticisms written under names that make no real sense, at least to me, then sit back and watch the pride try to reassert itself in a torrent of astounding bollocks spittering-spluttering from my enraged self).
MASOQUIZM III
Buzzer quizzes, eh? Remember the pure form that lasted all day and invariably ended in victory for the team containing Bayley. Ah, wonderful days (apart from the typical losing to Bayley's team in the semis bit).
So lo and behold ... Rob has revealed in the comments that there will be a another Masoquizm - Masoquizm The Third if you will - on Saturday November 21. This year.
Unless, of course, Rob is lying and he is having another laugh! Oooh, he is such a card!
But let's assume not and praise be hallelujah. I miss you buzzer quiz (especially now I'd be a lot better at it ... mwah-hahahehe). I know a lot of you guys out there feel the same way too. Pining for the buzzer quiz like a lost, imperfect love.
Yet, of course, MQ's a different kind of buzzer quiz (the "bad love" kind) and if anything is the most marathon-like death - oh wait, the mots justes have just entered my mind EXTREME TO THE MAX X-PERIENCE- you are likely to encounter in British quiz competition. (Well, across the Atlantic it's par for the course really. They do this kind of thing all the time. We're just mighty grateful if the odd day-long buzzer quiz tournament happens every three or four years).
In its previous two guises MQ took medium-level (I think, but it wasn't uppermost A division standard) toss-ups and boni from the American NAQT ICT championship and then dumped them on us Brits in all their lonnnnnggggggggg-question form glory packed into match-after-match-after-match of occasionally, insanely unrestrained Americanness. You won't quite believe it until you've played it and are on the receiving end of a giant fist-like clump of tangentially trivia-related madness you could never hope to understand. Never ever. Ever.
I did the first one and by the end - when I watched my previously unbeaten in 14 matches team capitulate in the semis in a kind of weird silence induced by sheer exhaustion; well, I think they lost; my vision was all fuzzy, me mind fogged up and I had to run to get my train; run actually being more like "make racing tracks like a snail and try not bumping into lampposts ... and other pedestrians" - I felt like I wanted to die, but in a good way. I mean, not good, but maybe the kind of feeling that people sinking relievedly into hypothermic death feel ('I'm dying, but I can't feel a thing. Lost all sensation in my head. Yes. It's ok to sleep forever. Sink into the black') Know what I mean? Nah, me neither.
So I am blissfully happy knowing that I will be back for more - along with the Broken Hearts - to give the old brain a good battering. With heard words. Not baseball bats with nails driven into the business end.
And all the more so because Bayley has already confirmed that he's up for it. Along with Mark. We're waiting on Jesse and Sean and maybe a few others we might have to ask.
We could do alright, I suppose.
posted by That Quiz Guy at 5:46 PM
1 Comments:
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