Pathetic Paper Airplanes AKA The Jeopardy Blog

13 Nov

from January 17, 2008

I had one of those brilliant moments of clarity yesterday. You know the ones I mean, the kind that usually come too late to be of any use. For example, George Costanza two hours later coming up with “the jerk store called and they’re out of you.” (Somehow, just the words “jerk store” have become an insult. I can’t explain it.)

GUY IN CAR YOU JUST HIT: “Hey asshole! Didn’t you see the red light? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

YOU: “Jerk store!”

But I had the moment of clarity at the exact right time. What’s more, it lasted nearly an hour.

I was at the Laundromat last night doing, don’t be shocked now, my laundry. While my laundry was spinning around in the dryers I sat and watched TV. Normally I’d listen to my iPod (iPods rock, but the new Touch makes my video ipod look like betamax.) but I came straight from work and didn’t have it. Jeopardy came on. Jeopardy is maybe the best game show on TV aimed at 70-year olds. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not ragging on Jeopardy, I’m a fan, but since Bob Barker left TV Alex Trebek has had to pick up the workload of being the pin-up favorite of nursing homes across the country. Drew Carey, um, not so much.

I tend to do fairly well on Jeopardy but it is hit or miss. Sometimes the categories fall right and I can answer everything. Sometimes I can answer nothing, but usually I do OK. Last night, wow, last night was great. I answered about 90% of the questions and only missed three. I knew “who was Archduke Franz Ferdinand?” I knew “what is sashimi?” I knew “who was Voltaire?” The final Jeopardy question was “what was Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon?” and I said it before the words had passed out of Alex Trebek’s formerly mustachioed lips.

Cool right? It gets better. There was a guy there also watching the show. Guy was middle aged, about 50, as opposed to the not-quite-yet middle aged 37 but with the soul of a young weird child that I am. He was standing at the other end of the washers. He was dressed in a way that I can’t stand: Red baseball cap. (Yankees, ugh.) Red t-shirt. Red zippered sweat shirt. Red sneakers. The guy looked like one of the Star Trek security guys who get killed before the credits roll. NOTE TO EVERYONE: Dressing all in one color makes you look like a jerk store. Don’t do it.

 Now he was intently watching the show, while I was slouched down in chair reading the paper while I watched. He looked serious, I looked, um, like I usually look, suavely distracted with an aura of mystery. But I was saying the answers out loud. Not loud enough to draw attention to myself, but loudly enough to be heard. I didn’t begin doing it on purpose, but I soon continued on purpose. I was answering almost as an afterthought, barely glancing up from the paper long enough to say “what is cesium?” But the red dude didn’t get as single answer. (If he did he didn’t say anything.) Problem was, Mr. Serious Player started shooting glances my way, slightly angry glances.

I didn’t care. How often do I get a chance to be a Laundromat Jeopardy bully? Come to think of it, how often does anybody get to be a Laundromat Jeopardy bully? I couldn’t stop.

The more I knew the more it bothered the guy. “What is the atomic weight of gold?”  “Who is King Kamehameha?” Clearly, he hated me. At sometime before Double Jeopardy I put my wash in the dryer’ so that when Final Jeopardy came up I was standing only about three feet from the guy. As soon as I had the answer I said it aloud, almost right in the guy’s ear. Being the sensitive type I said it low. (I knew it would piss him off.) To the guys credit, he didn’t say a word, but turned almost as red as his stupid hat.

Before Wheel of Fortune (a show that makes average brains turn to compost) channel 7 did the lottery numbers. The guy said, loudly, to someone near him “I bet that guy hit the numbers too!” He was pissed. And it got worse when I solved all of the Wheel of Fortune puzzles before he did too. (Not a hard thing. That show is crap. But did you ever read Pat Sajak’s blog? Seriously, the guy may be the sanest and most level-headed guy in show business. Who would have guessed?)

Eventually my wash was done, dried, folded, and it was time to leave. On my way out I glanced at another TV, one that was showing The Beverly Hillbillies. Just to annoy the guy, I turned to some random woman near the set and said “they’re showing the one with the kangaroo again?” just to twist the knife in the guy and show him that I know everything.

Don’t feel sorry for the guy, he got what he deserved for dressing so badly.

One Response to “Pathetic Paper Airplanes AKA The Jeopardy Blog”

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. Tales of the Laundromat Game « Mr. Blog's Tepid Ride - December 27, 2010

    […] any survive, may recall that I’ve written extensively about my adventures in the Laundromat. Here is were I pissed off a guy watching Jeopardy, and this is the blog where I ran into an old boss and we both pretended not to see each other. […]

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