Yahtzee Redux

For months, I have grieved the loss of a special friend that provided endless hours of comfort, entertainment, and thrills. Though this friend has left me, the legacy of shared memories of companionship and mischief has survived. I had thought that this friend was irreplaceable, that the void left in my soul by my friend’s absence could never be filled by another.

Nearly 10 months ago, cell phone Yahtzee deluxe (my dear friend) and the cell phone that housed it perished in what can only be described as a tragic loss of cataclysmic proportion (I believe the insurance companies call this sort of thing an act of God), and I was forced to bring out of retirement an older cell phone incompatible with modern Yahtzee Deluxe software. The addiction Yahtzee Deluxe had fed was suddenly starved; the withdrawal was excruciating.

Many were those who attempted to ease the pain: my sister-in-law found a website with Yahtzee Deluxe downloads for cell phones of all makes and models—attempts to load it to my aged phone proved nearly fatal to its creaky circuitry. The wife and I tried to play Yahtzee the old-fashioned way: with analog non-virtual dice. The little black-dotted white cubes were so loud, and sometimes the dice would take a hard bounce and fall onto the floor—the game just felt too out-of-control and in-color.

No, I would have to muster whatever resolve I could to face life alone (almost alone, anyway—the wife and dog do provide a significant amount of companionship, but unlike the ultra versatile Yahtzee Deluxe, they are not willing or able to spend their every waking moments in my pocket waiting to amuse me at the drop of a hat).

This sob story does have a happy ending, my friends: I have just acquired the latest in touch screen technology, and, perhaps to your surprise, it was not manufactured by Apple. I recently splurged and purchased a replacement friend: handheld touch screen Yahtzee. This pocket-sized electronic appliance with a bright blue backlight is the ultimate portable gaming device.

The advantages of hand-held touch screen Yahtzee are almost too numerous to list (but that won’t stop me from trying). Unlike its major competition, the gimmicky iPhone, which is bogged down with internet connectivity, voice and e-mail communicative capabilities, and expansive music and movie storage capacity packaged in a single sleek shiny black exterior, handheld touch screen Yahtzee is the no-fat, no-frills trimmed-down device that meets all of my (non blog-related) technological needs, unencumbered by needless fluff (who needs maps with GPS technology?).

No one ever calls my handheld touch screen Yahtzee, so my games are never interrupted. I’m afraid that the iPhone gamer can’t boast the same. Additionally, the handheld touch-screen Yahtzee is quite bulky (measuring a hefty 5¾" x 3½"), so it’s much more difficult to accidentally lose than today’s newfangled miniature cell phones (pictured, left, with really, really ridiculously good-looking model Derek Zoolander). Plus, handheld touch-screen Yahtzee comes with its very own hard-plastic screen protector to avoid all those nasty scratches that have plagued every miniature electronic device I’ve ever owned.

I can already hear the protests from the Nintendo crowd: “Sure, yajeev, you have your handheld touch screen Yahtzee but we have the Wii, with its incredible graphics and motion-sensing controllers.” And to you wee Wii players, I reply thus: “Yes, but can you play your Wii while stuck in traffic? While riding the bus? While using a public restroom? Furthermore, no handheld touch screen Yahtzee has ever (to my knowledge) been responsible for damaged plasma televisions, windows, pets, lamps, or limbs (click here for details) during the course of normal gameplay."

(with respect for Todd Beamer,) Let's roll!


Disclaimer: that Yahtzee, like any addictive recreational activity, has the potential to wreak havoc in personal relationships professional success.



The forecasted surge in posts to this blog may be compromised by the handheld touch-screen Yahtzee insurgency.


For previous Yahtzee-related blog posts, please visit:
* Warning: Not for the faint of heart
* Addiction
* Yahtzee Deluxe Update
* RIP: Yahtzee Cell Phone Deluxe

RIP: Cell Phone Yahtzee Deluxe

Longtime readers are familiar with my addiction to cell phone Yahtzee Deluxe. For newer visitors, feel free to check out my earlier Yahtzee-centric posts.

* Not for the faint of heart
* Addiction
* Yahtzee Deluxe Update

I’m not proud of what cell phone Yahtzee Deluxe has made me: a mere shell of the dice roller I wished to be. I thought that I could be a recreational player, but I found that it consumed my life, superseding my commitments to work and family. In my dreams, I would perpetually roll four-of-a-kind, one tantalizing die away from the elusive Yahtzee. I lived from roll to roll. I was always in search of my next Yahtzee fix. I would steal away to the restroom during the workday so that I could whip out my cell phone in the privacy of the men’s room stall, struggling to contain my enthusiasm for good rolls below the volume of normal men’s room activities.

I had on multiple occasions committed to deal with my problem. I just kept forgetting (rather, neglecting) to bring it up with my therapist.

Readers, I regret to inform you that the unthinkable happened. The cell phone up and died. Died.

Well, it didn’t really die, but it broke. It would, without rhyme, reason, or warning of any kind, shut down spontaneously. This made it really difficult to answer incoming calls. Then problem began about six months ago, when about five months remained on our warranty. I knew that exchanging our phone for a replacement meant losing Yahtzee Deluxe and all of the hard-earned high scores associated with it. Rather than trade the phone for a non-defective unit, I decided to live with the inconvenience of intermittently not being able to receive calls from my wife or boss.

I knew, though, that my cell phone Yahtzee Deluxe days were numbered. I was wise, I would have prepared for Doomsday. I should have implemented a phased withdrawal of cell phone Yahtzee Deluxe such that the pangs wouldn’t overtake me when the game was ripped from my stubby little fingers.

I did not plan. I denied that the end was near. In fact, I played with greater frequency and intensity than ever before. “Yahztzee, Yahtztee, Yahztee,” I’d catch myself chanting under my breath, walking down the halls, brushing my teeth, riding the bus. My workday gameplaying was no longer limited to the men’s room; I was indulging during lunch, while reading scientific papers, while conducting experiments at the lab bench.

And then the end came. Warranty expiration was merely days away. I knew what had to be done. I could not continue to ignore the unpredictable crashing of my cell phone. I could not afford a new phone when what I knew to be inevitable would ultimately transpire: the final and irreversible sleep of my Sony Ericsson.

I called the warranty center. “Sir, you’re really lucky,” the chipper service specialist informed me. “You’re warranty expires in just three days.” She had wrongly assumed that this problem had just begun, barely before the warranty’s expiration. She hadn’t understood my carefully calculated buzzer beater. We exchanged pleasantries and agreed to exchange phones. A new cell phone arrived at my door the very next day. The old cell phone with Yahtzee Deluxe had to be packaged and sent away. It was if I was losing my best friend.

I dropped the box in the mail and examined my shiny new phone. Ordinarily, I’d be excited about the replacement of an aging electronic with a brand new model. I turned the phone over and over in my hand. “What do you think?” my wife asked.

“It’s just great,” I lied.

It wasn’t great. The next day, I drove to work with no in-ride entertainment besides the radio. My experiments were no longer punctuated by Yahtzee quickies. The worst was in the men’s room. I sat down and, out of habit, whipped out my new phone. My thick thumbs immediately entered the memorized sequence of buttons that used to bring the dice to my two-inch screen. This time, though, there was no Yahztee Deluxe…

I flipped the phone shut, and slipped it back into the front pocket of my shorts now resting on the floor around my ankles.

What to do. What to do. I fumbled around my pockets and found my wallet. I read my driver’s license. I memorized my credit card numbers and expiration dates. I tried to invent a new game to keep me occupied: I would stare at the shoes in the stall next to me and spend the rest of the day trying to find the person who wore them. Nothing cut the mustard. Bored, I stood up and flushed.

I wish I could report a happy ending to this story. There are positive outcomes, sure: more quality time with the wife and dog… clearer focus at work… safer driving… but these all come at the cost of a Yahtzee Deluxe-shaped hole in my heart that can be filled by nothing other than the five digital dice.


For the skeptics of previous posts, I have included a screen shot of my high score list, taken just before I sent the phone away.

***Yahtzee Deluxe Update***

For context, please see the 9/27/06 and 2/7/07 entries on my blogsite.

This morning, I rolled a 491 on cell phone Yahtzee Deluxe. It was my second highest score of all time. Needless to say I was thrilled. So thrilled that I screwed up the part where you enter your name for the High Scores list. It reads: VJ0A. And I can't change it unless I clear the High Scores list. Which I won't. Obviously.

By way of avoiding self-incrimination, I will not disclose where I was when said second highest personal score of all time was achieved. Rest assured, it was not at the Olive Garden.



Originally Posted: Tuesday, February 9, 2007
(Then) Curent Mood: chipper
http://blog.myspace.com/yajeev

Addiction

My name is Yajeev, and I'm addicted to cell phone Yahtzee Deluxe.

(Response: Hi, Yajeev.)

You may recall my recent discovery of cell phone Yahtzee Deluxe as an alternative and superior means of entertainment/occupation while using the toilet (see 9/27/06 entry).

What was once a sometimes amusement has since come to rule my life. I write this blog not out of pride, but in shame over the way I have allowed Yahtzee Deluxe to overtake every aspect of my life.

Had you confronted me two months ago as a well-meaning friend or relative, I would have denied, denied, denied... and would have insisted that YOU were the one with the problem, son. It's taken me a long time to admit that I have an addiction, but I know that this is the first step in overcoming it.

There has been no lack of warning signs... I have ignored them all. And yet, day by day, game by game, roll by ineluctable roll, Yahtzee Deluxe has consumed one facet of my existence after another.

It began when I would play Yahtzee Deluxe while sitting on the toilet. Before I knew it, I was extending my throne room visits, both in frequency and duration... I was sitting down for occasions I would have previously stood... I was visiting the restroom when there was no real need for elimination--I just craved an escape into my private sanctuary where I could satisfy what was fast becoming an unquenchable urge to roll five of a kind.

On my commutes to and from work, I have often found myself sitting in traffic. Before I knew it, I was whiling away my idle road time with Yahtzee Deluxe. When the road congestion cleared in the middle of a great game, however, I occasionally could not find the willpower to set my cell phone down and turn my attention to the road. Nay, one hand on the wheel, the other on the dice, I continued both pursuits simultaneously... usually managing to perform both tasks adequately. On one occasion, before my very eyes on the little color screen appeared "1 2 3 4 5." I yelled in exclamation, "Large straight!" when I heard a honk at my side. I looked up and realized that I had begun to swerve into the other lane. As if to explain myself and assuage the anger of the driver I nearly broadsided, I merely lifted my cell phone to the window and pointed at it, mouthing the words "Large straight." I felt sure he'd understand.

The urge comes upon me at all times--in the middle of the night, while reading for school, even in the middle of writing this blog I have played twice (scores: 199 and 224) and have barely resisted the urge to play more... I can do better than those scores--they're average at best.

Looking back, the warning signs of addiction have been so obvious... I've consulted addiction websites and found that I have exhibited several of the classic signs of addiction: denial of any problem, keeping secrets from family and friends (i.e. how much Yahtzee Deluxe I've been playing), problems with schoolwork (rolling the digital dice when I should have been reading), spending a lot of time figuring out how to satisfy my addiction, failed attempts to stop indulging, anxiety (you should see me sweat bullets when I've rolled four sixes and I'm going for the Yahtzee with one roll left), mood swings (highly score dependent), changes in sleeping habits (I've been playing in the middle of the night), feeling shaky or sick when trying to stop, weight gain (two pounds since Thanksgiving)...

And yet, it was only recently, while my wife and I were enjoying a romantic evening at the Olive Garden, when, during the slightest lull in an otherwise serious and stimulating conversation, I whipped out my cell phone, and pressed the memorized button sequence to open Yahtzee Deluxe and began rolling, that I realized something was amiss. I glanced up, and realized I had done something wrong.

"What are you doing?"

"Um, I'm playing Yahtzee Deluxe."

"Is our conversation not interesting enough?"

"Oh, sure it is." Pause. "Are you offended?"

"Slightly."

"Oh, sorry." I flipped my phone shut, and slid it into my pocket.

We continued our conversation. My wife, graceful as ever, has not brought up this incident again. But I know that I have offended.

Which brings me to the present. It's easy to overlook the indications of a problem… until you begin to hurt the ones you love.

I have vowed to make a change: No more Yahtzee Deluxe at the Olive Garden.

It may seem a small step, but I assure you, it will be no easy task. And, I call upon you, my friends, to help me, to hold me to my commitment. I know that without a support structure in place, my best-laid plans are but lofty pie-in-the-sky fantasies. Please, if ever you find yourself with me in an Olive Garden, and you see me reach for my pocket, have the courage and strength to help me find my own courage and strength to overcome the animal Yahtzee Deluxe urge that rages within.

Thank you.

(Response: polite, gentle applause)


Originally Posted: Tuesday, February 7, 2007
(Then) Curent Mood: guilty
http://blog.myspace.com/yajeev

Warning: Not for the faint of heart

As this post will include some potty references, it is advised that small children and the squeamish not continue. May I recommend reviewing an earlier post more suited to general audiences, perhaps July 29's "Bridging the Divide." Or, you may wish to participate in the contest described in September 3's installment.

For those who wish to proceed, you've been warned.

In a prior life, I used to read magazines or do crossword puzzles while on the toilet. I have recently discovered a new pastime: cell phone Yahtzee Deluxe.

My wife and I have spent many blissful hours indulging in the thrill that is Yahtzee. Something about rolling those dice and taking the chances and getting the big payoffs just thrills me.

Until recently, this pleasure has been limited by the availability of a hard surface, five dice, and a supply of scorecards.

This has all changed! With the advent of cutting edge cell phone technology, I now have the power of Yahtzee in the palm of my hand! That's right: I shelled out $6.99 to download the classic family game of dice for use on my Sony Ericsson mobile phone.

So, now, instead of reading an article in Newsweek or the New Yorker for the 12th time, I have a brand new engaging and interactive experience each and every visit to the powder room. It's so exhilarating--I even find myself, cell phone in hand, visiting the lavatory at work without the urge to p**p.

The one drawback to restroom Yahtzee is the restraint I must exhibit while in public restrooms. I am so used to shouting "YAHTZEE!" every time I roll five of a kind; I find myself nearly exploding with unreleased passion when such a blessed event occurs. Occasionally, in rare moments of low self-control, I do find myself loudly whispering "yahtzee!" following that most excellent roll or exhaling a sigh of dismay when I fail to roll the crucial digit.

Another great benefit to playing on the throne is the instant digital feedback. After a high score, I might get a message that says, "Played like a real pro! Super score!" or "One of the best scores ever!" Those moments are particularly gratifying. After a less successful go at it, I might be told, "Need some more practice" or "Nice job, but you can do better."

Those messages are so fleeting--here and gone in a flash; I just wish I could print them out.

What follows is a list of my top scores on Yahtzee Deluxe:
1. 494
2. 483
3. 437
4. 430
5. 397

With scores like that, I feel like a throne room hero.



Originally Posted: Tuesday, September 26, 2006
(Then) Curent Mood: accomplished
http://blog.myspace.com/yajeev