Some Mondays, I find myself wanting to give a written play-by-play of the sensational week I had. I long to describe how I partied every night, participated in casual encounters of every naughty nature, got in a bunch of fights, narrowly escaped the law and drank my weight in premium bottles. Yes, I guess I COULD fabricate something to hold your fleeting attention span. But I’d be a phony.

The truth is, I pole vaulted the cool fence a long time ago and landed right in the middle of Nerdville. Oddly enough, I’ve come to accept my dorkiness and that’s why I’m going to dedicate this week to what most people would never admit: a pastime that most would classify as uncool.

Now, if you were to tell me that you did not have a closeted nerdy fetish, I would call you a dirty liar and tell you to save it for your presidential campaign in 2012. Everyone has a shameful obsession of some sort, and really, I’m not talking ball-gags, blow up dolls, little people, whips and Geisha feet. If you are an avid participant in such sport, frankly, I don’t want to know about it. No, I’m leaning more towards an authentically geeky, push-your-glasses-back-on-your-nose- fixation, you know, the kind that you won’t openly speak about at social functions. For some of you, maybe it’s a cherished baseball card collection that you started as a child. Or perhaps you have a hobby of constructing model trains or cars. Some of you may play on-line Chess or have the world’s largest unicorn collection. Maybe your niche is hand crafting Spider-Man figurines into various positions, playing Sudoku or collecting Phantom of the Opera memorabilia. It could be something as simple as a coin collection or as extravagant as wearing a cape and participating in Dungeon’s and Dragon’s combats in Carondolet Park. My dad has an assorted compilation of flashlights that range from teeny tiny to maglite proportions, Dave is an intense gamer and my friend Kelly dominates the world record accumulation of Hello Kitty trinkets. My mom, well where do I begin and my neighbor is a World War II reenactor.

My geeky passion was a result of 9 months of pure hell, I mean pregnancy. Since all of my friends were either relishing in their coming of legal age to imbibe or away at college, my options were scarce in forms of entertainment. I did what any other out-of-their-mind, hormonal pregnant 21 year old would do. Turned to the internet.

Not porn (that was the LAST thing on my mind at that point), not online shopping and Facebook and Myspace weren’t even a sperm of a brainstorm back then. No, I stumbled upon the Garden of Nerdery: on-line Scrabble.

And in an epic instant, I was hooked.

My itinerary for the day became quite simple: wake up, go to work, come home, play scrabble, eat, eat again, eat some more, play some more, bed. I joined groups. I had several screen names. I chatted with other losers about technique, timing and dictionary preferences: Sowpods or TWL. I befriended gamers with names such as ScrabGuy9, BingoGirl and MrLetter. Competition was tough at the beginning but as I improved, so did my on-line shit talking. I found myself rage typing things like “Nice waste of an S, idiot” or “That X would’ve done more good shoved up your ass ”. Soon, I became a proud Scrabble elitist.

The pivotal point in my nerd-diction came with the caveat of a 7 pound baby. I had to take a hiatus. Sure, I played every now and again, but for the most part, my Scrabble affection slumbered.

Until a recent challenge from a friend ignited all of my old gaming habits.

That’s right, my friend got fed up with all of my Scrabble trash talking and how I was claiming to be some kind of world renowned Scrabble master. So he challenged me to a tournament set for last Wednesday night. I proudly accepted, reveling in the chance to show all of my friends my true Scrabble wizardry. Well, as Wednesday neared, I became increasingly doubtful and the questions began clouding in on my gloating: What if I freeze and get Scrabblers block? What if I can’t remember all the acceptable two letter words? Can I dust off my dormant Scrabble knowledge in time for the tournament? Most importantly, what if I lose?

Which is exactly what happened. I lost.

Wednesday came. We gathered. Argued over ground rules, chip to dip ratio, the proper way to train a dog (physical force or positive reinforcement. Yeah, we suck) and the games began. I froze, forgot all the two letter words and disputed over a Scrabble fundamental involving letter placement in which I was proved wrong by some on-line Scrabble bible.

Yep, I was knocked off my high horse which brought me to a harsh conclusion: I was no longer the Scrabble queen. Just a board game whore. And a nerd.

Yet, I remain optimistic. Since I’m not out running the town, creating moral travesties and being a bottle rat, I can allow myself that much more time for Scrabble practice. I’m confident that I’ll ace my dorky pastime once again. And then, I’ll invite all you other clandestine nerds to an ultimate showdown.