The best thing June 4, 2007Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
…about being skint when you’re a chain-smoking alcoholic is not being able to afford a swimming-pool because, let’s face it, you’d only be found dead in it.
Anyway, fuck that shit… Hands up who’s got a new laptop… What? No-one at all? We have. Or, rather, the Russian has. Naturally, I’m not allowed anywhere near it, both because I’d get my dirty fingerprints on it and he guards it like a national treasure, and secondly because I’d have a good old rummage around to do as much spying on him as my technological skills would allow. Indeed, so treasured is the new toy that often the last thing I see as I wave my beloved off to a hard day’s surfing the internet in the university library from my semi-slumber is him giving the bastard one final polish so that he’ll be the envy of all the other erudite surfers. But the troublesome thing – for him – is that I do now need quite regular access to his pride and joy. Not actually because I can be bothered to spy on him that much and, in any case, there’s always a preparatory ten minutes or so while he, presumably, deletes every transaction that’s ever happened on the computer before I am allowed to get my filthy, staining mits on it, but because it’s got… erm, 麻將 – no, wait there, or is it 麻将? Or, fuck, 麻将? Sorry, my Chinese is awfully rusty… mahjong on it.
Darlings, we’re hooked.
It can’t be the proper version, as my travels through wikipedia – any resemblance between the wikipedia page on mahjong and the Chinese characters above is purely coincidental – assures me that mahjong is played by multiple players. But, and providing further evidence that computers do, in fact, improve everything, the version that’s built into the Russian’s new laptop is for solo mahjong. None of this having-to-commune-with-other-humans nonsense. Just you, the computer and hours and hours of swearing and frustration.
Do folk play? If so, can they let me know if there are any rules to speak of? The Russian is, as his name suggests, Russian, so he can do all sorts of clever things like play chess and build his own tank. Whereas I can’t do anything. At all. He automatically saw a system in the whole thing and has instructed me, when trying to pair off my matching tiles, to work my way from the outside in, rather like with cutlery on posh occasions. I have pooh-poohed his advice and stab away wildly and then holler at the injustice and cruelty of it all when, just as I think I’m about to get the computerised fireworks display having cleared the whole bally lot of the bastards away, I am left with two – er, what are they called, actually? Is it tiles? – thingies SITTING ON TOP OF EACH OTHER, meaning they are unzappable. What sort of cunning bastardry is that? Plus it’s colour-blindist. More than once I’ve snorted at the computer’s stupidity in refusing to let me ping two clearly identical dragons to kingdom come only to realise that they are, in fact, different colours. I plan to sue China for what the Russians call ‘moral damages’.
So that’s our news, which, I agree, is nothing to write home about. Or to write on a blog about, really, but it’s that or nothing. Take it or leave it.
Have any of you got some lovely news?