I have a serious question I need help with. How in hell does one make time to read every book out there, see every movie, watch at least a few of the less pathetic television shows (and some that are so pathetic it's funny), knit a sweater every other week, cook gourmet dinners, find a mathematical equation to explain the platypus, make time for friends, and still find the time to fucking exercise? Because that always seems to be the area of my life that suffers, and today I am suffering because of it.
We had games night at my friend Kara's tonight. Silly me, I was picturing Pictionary, or Trivial Pursuit, refined, sedate games. Instead I was forced to endure about 3 and 1/2 hours of Dance Dance Revolution (DDR, to those in the know). Which is pretty much the best game in the known universe. As well as the most sadistic. Or masochistic, or whatever, all I'm saying is it can be painful. In a good way.
You may have seen some crazy teens in the arcades, spinning and stomping their feet to the beat, as the neon lights up their sweaty faces. Some genuis at Playstation decided that maybe people would like to sweat at home, or at least get to the point that they don't look totally ridiculous before heading out to Dave and Buster's. Thus, the home version of DDR was born.
I can safely say that I am one of the suckiest players ever. But I had a blast.
The margaritas helped. Maybe.
The last time I was at an arcade, I saw a virtual boxing machine. I am just waiting for the day when Tae-bo becomes interactive, and Billy whatsisname beats your ass black and blue, until the day you play your 300th game and are finally able to butterfly kick him in the balls.
Sore and tired, I shall retire now. Tomorrow I have to start my Rocky-style training, so I can be a contender the next time we dance the night away. I'll be ready, dude.