Snug gonads

I'm increasingly ambivalent about what has happened to the joy of Scrabble since it became Scrabulous.  I rarely win at either, and yet I feel compelled to play because dear ones invite me to games, and procede to whup my butt. What I never experience in the online version is the drunken hysteria associated with the face to face game, played in sundry cottages and on midnight summer decks, falling asleep in winterlude hotel rooms, in the candle light and amid a haze of cocktails or too much food. I like arguing about rules, brandishing my ancient Oxford Concise dictionary, and having a good ol' fashioned yelling contest. And when gonads are snug, you know you're in a tight spot, you might never win, but you have your opponents disarmed by silliness, which I thought was the purpose of wordsmithing.