Full disclosure: I don’t actually play Sudoku. Ever. That game fills me with a blind, seething rage akin to what I imagine would transpire if you found a big-ass mountain goat and tried to light its pants on fire. Mountain goats love them some pants.
But as much as I hate sudoku, I love sudoku-style games, like that one with the skyscrapers and they’re all different heights and you’re being held hostage at the mercy of an insane city planner who knows how they want to skyline to look from every angle and demands that you make it happen or else they’ll kidnap your family or something AND eat all the chocolate and vanilla from the tub of neapolitan ice cream so you’re stuck with the gross strawberry stuff. They try to market it as just a regular puzzle game, but it’s actually an ACTION ADVENTURE.
Basically, I hate filling out Latin squares, but I love filling out Latin squares with arbitrary additional requirements and silly names.
So I was playing killer sudoku, which is like regular sudoku only 100% more dangerous, and was SO STUCK. You don’t even know how stuck. So I went and double checked the rules, and I was like HOLY CRAP YOU CAN ONLY HAVE ONE OF EACH NUMBER IN EACH 3×3 SQUARE? Like I said, I don’t play sudoku much. And then suddenly it was easy. And I just got so fucking proud of myself, I started sassing the sudoku game. Like, industrial-strength sass. Weapons-grade sass. I was yelling insults at my computer, mocking the rows as I cleared their pathetic “9” pencil marks, seriously fifth row third column, what makes you think you’re ready to have a 9? NOTHING. You don’t fucking deserve a 9. You don’t even deserve to be on this board. You disgust me, fifth row third column. GET A JOB.*
I swept away the pencil marks and filled in the boxes like a fucking champ. Like a samurai let loose on a field of bunnies. Zombie bunnies. SLOW zombie bunnies.
Some people yell at sports games on tv. Some people yell at enemies in video games. I yell at numbers arranged in rows. Hash tag: no regrets.
(Hash-tag: I know that’s not how you use hash-tags. Hash-tag: you can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom.)
*In case it’s not clear, all this stuff was me pattern-matching for “things assholes tell people they don’t like”. I am strongly against jerkliness in general, and especially the “get a job” thing is a really awful thing to say. The grid cell knew I was kidding, and was totally cool with it. The grid cell and I have an understanding.