Conversations about things I don't like...

So, most who know me, know that I am not a big fan of the console game systems, or computer games in general. Keep that little tidbit in your mind as I relate the following conversation. This occurred, I believe, as we were either driving home from Mesquite (with me as a captive audience), or at some other time during the trip (with me as a captive audience).

Her: That Wii Fit thing looks pretty cool. I'm thinking about getting one.

Me: (with a look of incredulity) Are you kidding me? Seriously?

Her: Yeah, I think it looks good, and it has yoga, and monitoring, and calorie count, the whole thing.

Me: But it's a Nintendo GAME. You know how thrilled I am about Nintendo Games.

Her: (nonchalantly) Yeah, I know.

Me: ~some random mumbling about postliterate societies, etc.~

Her: Blank Stare (with overtones of YOU'RE A BIT OF A MORON RIGHT NOW.)

Me: (correctly interpreting said overtones) -insert cricket chirping sounds here- If you're going to do that, let's wait at least until the reviews are out, rather than just the marketing....

I thought this was brilliantly reasonable. Plus, I figured if I just ignored the conversation, it may never have actually happened. This worked for a short time.

Fast forward to Monday night when we went to pick up the kid who plays the violin. As she is getting to the car, mom says, YOU WANNA PUT THAT IN THE BACK WITH YOU, OR IN THE TRUNK? Before the sweet child could respond, I blurted, I SAY TRUNK - THAT VIOLIN CASE IS A LETHAL WEAPON IN HER HANDS, AND EVERYTHING WITHIN FOUR FEET OF IT GETS AUTOMATICALLY BEATEN TO DEATH.

And I make a move to open the trunk.

Then mom says - but now you'll see what I bought.

Yeah. You guessed it.

It's been out of the box, but not in my presence.

Now it's Thursday, and I saw this random bit of video on Teh YouToob today:



After watching this, I sent Her an email. It said: TAKE THAT THING BACK TO THE STORE. RIGHT. EFFING. NOW.

I sit there, wondering what name she'll call me, or how soon I'll be served with divorce papers.

A few moments later, I get her response back: I PROMISE I WON'T VIDEO YOU.

My response back to her: Well, I THOUGHT you were gonna say TOO LATE - I ALREADY SWEATED ON IT.

I guess we'll see how it goes from here. I love my wife dearly - and for a million reasons other than the one where she puts up with the thing that is me. So the machine will stay, we'll find a way to play Naked/Drunk Hula-Hoop, and all will be right with the world again. I'll just make sure all video recording devices are nowhere near the vicinity.