One of my many vices--a list that includes microbrews, komodo dragon eggs, and wearing Kiss makeup to work--is video games. It's a vice that isn't so popular with the other residents of the house, one of whom wants me to "relate to your family" or "listen when I'm talking to you" while the other thinks the TV is just a communication device to
Orson Elmo. But as I've said before, I love my games, and as scintillating as folding laundry or reruns of Seinfeld may be I'd still rather have a controller in my hand, dishing out some pain to genetically mutated zombies.
Thanks to the IRS, who was kind enough to sit on a large stash of my cash for the better part of last year, we've decided that it's OK to invest a little money in our own happiness. Oodgie, bless her, knew that this meant that if I didn't upgrade from my Xbox--which was already two years old--I'd whine like a two year old who'd gone three minutes without candy. Enter the Xbox 360.
I hooked the bad boy up this weekend, and popped in the game which one friend described to me as "like crack, but more addictive." It was completely awesome. But it did expose one fatal flaw in my plans.
I'm not very good at video games.
What's hard to explain to Oodgie, after coming to bed at 4 AM with sore thumbs and a bad attitude, is that I spent half that time trying to do the same thing over and over again, but failing miserably the first 30 times. I just can't let puzzles lie, and damn it if I'm going to let some
alien invaders enchanted sorcerer Lego jedi pinhead programmer get the better of me. And like many things in life that confound and annoy me, I express my frustration verbally. Loudly. Angrily. And generally with great profanity.
If you're curious (and I'm sure you are) I have found a video replica (below, NSFW) of my gaming experience online, so scarily identical to mine that it could only be an illegally captured recording of me. If you have the patience, I encourage you to sit through the duration, because only then can you truly capture the suffering, the tenacity, and the futility of my efforts.