Week 1072: The Tile Invitational — our second ScrabbleGrams contest
By Pat Myers,
OEESTXT → TEXTOSE: Sweet tweets are made of this.
OEESTXT → EXTOTS: Little girls with lipstick and platform shoes.
OEESTXT → TEETSOX: Brand name for an especially comfortable sports bra.
Last year just around this time, the Empress took the suggestion of Echt Loser Jeff Contompasis and ran a contest based on Jeff’s passion for ScrabbleGrams, a word game that appears daily in The Post’s comics pages. Week 1021 was such a success that we ran the results for two weeks straight. And so:
This week: Come up with a five,- six- or seven-letter term by scrambling any of the seven-letter ScrabbleGram sets at the bottom of this page, and define it, as in the examples above. (The letter sets are taken from “The Big Book of ScrabbleGrams” as well as some old Post puzzles.) The word may be a brand-new term, as in the examples, but you may also find an existing word and supply a clever definition for it. Note that we are NOT playing for Scrabble points, as in the real game; the letters won’t have point values. As usual, don’t send more than 25 entries this week. And we mean it: If you don’t include the letter set with your entry, in the letter order we supply here, we won’t look at it.
Winner gets the Inkin’ Memorial, the Lincoln statue bobblehead that is the official Style Invitational trophy. Second place receives a Style Invitational Two-Volume Set of Literature: “The Origin of Feces” and “What’s Your Poo Telling You?,” two li’l books donated by Jeff Contompasis and Tom Witte, respectively (but not respectfully).
Other runners-up win their choice of a yearned-for Loser Mug or the ardently desired “Whole Fools” Grossery Bag. Honorable mentions get a lusted-after Loser magnet, either the Po’ Wit Laureate or Puns of Steel. First Offenders receive a smelly tree-shaped air “freshener” (FirStink for their first ink). E-mail entries to email@example.com or, if you were born in the 19th century, fax to 202-334-4312. Deadline is Tuesday, May 27 (Heaven forbid we interrupt your Memorial Day); results published June 15 (online June 12). No more than 25 entries per entrant per contest. Include “Week 1072” in your e-mail subject line or it might be ignored as spam. Include your real name, postal address and phone number with your entry. See contest rules and guidelines at wapo.st/InvRules. This week’s honorable-mentions subhead is by Kathy El-Assal; the alternative headline in the “Next week’s results” line is by Seth Brown. Join the lively Style Invitational Devotees group on Facebook at on.fb.me/invdev, and click “like” on Style Invitational Ink of the Day at bit.ly/inkofday.
The Style Conversational The Empress’s weekly online column discusses each new contest and set of results. Especially if you plan to enter, check it out at wapo.st/styleconv.
Report from Week 1068: Yeah, you wish
In Week 1068, we asked you to ponder what your first act would be if you found yourself in someone else’s position.
The winner of the Inkin’ Memorial:
If I were the owner of a sports team with a racially offensive name, my first act would be to secretly tape another team’s owner saying something even more racially offensive. (Ben Aronin, Arlington, Va.)
2nd place and the dog-shaped toilet paper cozy:
If I were in charge of the World Cup, my first act would be to let the players use their hands as long as they wear shoes on them. (Jeff Shirley, Richmond, Va.)
If I were Noah, the very first thing I would do is surreptitiously swat just one of the mosquitoes. (Beverley Sharp, Montgomery, Ala.)
If I were chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, I’d make every day Casual Friday because nobody ever went to war in a polo shirt. (Michael Greene, Alexandria, Va.)
Wishful inking: honorable mentions
If I were made of money, my first act would be to allow my daughter to buy everything she wanted (I have informed her of this repeatedly). (Jim Stiles, Rockville, Md.)
If I were hauntingly gorgeous, my first act would be to tell my wife. (Larry Neal, McLean, Va.)
If I were a model for Michelangelo, my first act would be to request a warmer room. (Jennifer Dickey, Silver Spring, Md., a First Offender)
If I were appointed Deputy Assistant Associate Undersecretary for Interagency Accountability and Coordination, my first act would be to covet the job of the Assistant Associate Undersecretary for Interagency Accountability and Coordination. (Mark Raffman, Reston, Va.)
As Chancellor of Traffic, I would have a fleet of special helicopters circling overhead. Whenever a pilot spotted someone in a turn lane who didn’t start moving once the arrow turned green, a helicopter with a big magnet would swoop down, stick to the roof of the car, then fly it to the back of the line. (Pie Snelson, Silver Spring, Md.)
If I were Lord of the Flies, the first thing I’d do is ban eating poo. I mean, seriously, it’s poo. (Bird Waring, Larchmont, N.Y.)
If I were the head of NASA, my first act would be to make mission names less Eurocentric and more culturally diverse. Sending a probe to the planet nearest us could be, say, project Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli. (Jeff Contompasis, Ashburn)
If I were named U.S. poet laureate, my first act would be to reclassify limericks from light verse to welter verse. (Konrad Schwoerke, Durham, N.C.)
If I were secretary of the interior, my first act to preserve America’s wildlife would be to make spotted-owl pickles. (Larry Gray, Union Bridge, Md.)
If I were the King of the World, I wouldn’t travel from England to America in third class on a boat. (Gary Crockett, Chevy Chase)
If I owned the L.A. Clippers, I’d hop in my time machine and go back 200 years. I’m homesick. (Joe Neff, Warrington, Pa.)
If I had been Pheidippides, I would’ve signed up for the 5K. (Kevin Dopart, Washington)
If I were governor of Georgia, my first act would be to declare that congregants’ guns must remain holstered for the entire sermon. (Howard Walderman, Columbia, Md.)
If I were William Shakespeare, my first act would be Act I. I would probably also start with Scene 1, but just to appease the traditionalists. (Todd DeLap, Fairfax, Va.)
If I were President Chris Christie in 2016, my first act would be to tackle our nation’s obesity epidemic by mandating that all fast-food restaurants post pictures of me in a Speedo. (Kathleen DeBold, Burtonsville, Md.)
If I were President Ted Cruz, my first act would be to give back the millions of guns President Obama has been seizing from law-abiding citizens. (Chris Doyle, Ponder, Tex.)
If I were President Rick Perry, my first act would be to find out the name of the government agency that I wanted to abolish and then, by golly, I’d abolish it! (Robert Schechter, Dix Hills, N.Y.)
If I were the postman, I would occasionally ring only once. (Gary Crockett)
If I were elected pope, my first act would be to check what was in that smoke. (The cardinals are in college, right?) (Larry Neal)
And Last: If I were a therapist starting up my practice, my first act would be to start scrutinizing The Style Invitational. It even supplies names and partial addresses! (David Ballard, Reston, Va.)
And Even Laster: If I were the Empress, I’d give LOTS of ink to the person I was having a tawdry, illicit but oh-so-satisfying affair with, since everyone would expect me to do the opposite so that no one would suspect any connection between us. (Tom Witte, 1,289-time Loser, Montgomery Village, Md.) [And I am the Empress of Roumania.]
Really, it’s not that dubious an honor!
Congratulations to Danielle Nowlin — rhymes with “growlin’” — who was named Loser of the Year by her fellow contestants Saturday at the Flushies, the Losers' own 19th annual award luncheon. The 32-year-old former school band teacher from Woodbridge, Va., and mother of two preschoolers blotted up 87 spatters of ink in Year 21, just a year after her debut. See this week’s Style Conversational column for a sampling of Danielle’s cleverest entries.
Still running — deadline Monday night: our contest to compare/contrast two entities that have the same abbreviation. See bit.ly/invite1071 .
Give us a word: The ScrabbleGram sets
Next week’s results: It’s a Small, Small Word, or Lessquipedalian, a contest to write a poem using only words found in a list of the 1,000 most commonly used. See bit.ly/invite1069.