QUESTION: "The names of three capital cities are interlettered below. Can you find them? (The letters are in consecutive order.)"L W O O A T N S T D H A O I W N N A P G M O T C I O L T N"
MY ANSWER: "I don't think I understand the question."
ACTUAL ANSWER: "London, Washington, Ottawa"
CONSENSUS: Bullshit. "The letters are in consecutive order"? I spent my time trying to unscramble three consecutive capital city names from that row of letters. The directions were unclear. (Also, it didn't help that I was searching exclusively for American state capitals, because I'm a patriot.) Screw you, Mensa calendar.
2 comments:
For years I worked with a guy who made it a point that he could be in Mensa. 143. That’s what it was. His ticket to intelligentsia.
He’d also leave phone messages for people away from their offices. He’d hang up the phone and announce every five minutes to me and anyone else passing by, “Phone’s gonna ring.”
Sometimes he even said it right before the phone actually rang.
“Told ya.” He’d wait for the surprised looks of the unknowing before telling them, “I’m psychic.”
I never waited before telling them, “Nothing a few meds can’t fix.”
Oh, and disasters. He’d freak over disasters. Like he’d just missed death by a brush. Things like a plane crashing. He’d rush into my office with a distressed look and tell me, “Oh my gawd! Did you hear about that plane crash in New York? Do you know I used to live right in that area? I could have been driving down that road!”
It wasn’t the first time he’d delivered breaking news that was more about him than the news item. I tried always to look and sound worried. “oh? Were you just there?”
“I lived there, in that exact neighborhood, in ‘85”.
“Well, that was a close call. You just missed getting killed by 15 years.”
Somehow he’s still walking around today. Still mentioning Mensa. Hmm, maybe I’ll get him a calendar for Christmas.
Yo, Unc. Miss your pointy self.
-Dreyma
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