My wife found out last night that she has to travel this weekend. She’s leaving tomorrow morning, and coming back on Tuesday.
So, I did what any husband in my situation would do: on the way home tonight, I bought a video game to while away the time.
(Hey, don’t give me that look. It was either that, or forty dollars’ worth of porn. And the coin came up ‘tails’, so video game it was, fair and square.
Besides, this is better. It’ll keep me entertained longer, and now I won’t have to re=upholster the couch. Probably. But I’m not making any promises. That’s a long damned weekend we’re talking about.)
Anyway, I’m trying to make the best of it — it’ll be just me and the pooch for the next few days around here. Well, me, the pooch, and the aforementioned new game. I picked out Far Cry, mainly because every review I’ve seen has gushed unabashedly over it. I’m not typically into the sneak-around-and-shoot-’em-up games — I don’t sneak well, and I’m much better at being shot than pulling the trigger myself in these games — but this was just too good to pass up. Or so it sounded; I’ll know for sure in a couple of days.
(For the record, Far Cry just beat out my other target, EA’s NBA Live 2005. They almost got me with Carmelo Anthony — go ‘cuse! — on the cover, but I ultimately decided that the bullshit ‘postdate it with next year’s date to try and seem cutting edge’ annoyed me more. So I didn’t get it. Maybe in January.
Oh, and in the interest of full disclosure, I also paused lingeringly in front of Leisure Suit Larry Magna Cum Laude: Uncut and Uncensored. But then I remembered that I’m not fifteen years old.
And that I don’t really want to have to re-upholster that couch.
And that, even if I did, I’ve still got the internet, which I’ve already paid for this month. So, I went with the shooty game. We’ll see how that decision turns out.)
So, I’m all set for mindless entertainment, to take the place of comfort and companionship and a real, live sweetie in the house. Oh, sure, the dog can fill in for some of the activities — she’s warm under the blanket, and will follow me around the house to see what trouble I’m getting into. But she can’t talk, really, and she’s a lousy kisser. Too much tongue, and not enough lips — way too ‘freestyle’ for me. Plus, her breath smells like horse carcass and peanut butter. And those are not ‘two great tastes that taste great together’. Trust me on this one, folks.
Eh. maybe I’ll be all right. If my lingering cold is any indication, I might just while away the whole weekend in a comfortable NyQuil haze. Nothing like sleeping for eighteen hours at a time to make the days whiz by, right?
Short of that, though, it’s gonna be awfully lonely around the old homestead until mid-week next week. So if any of you WTHWI-keteers — try saying that three times fast! — have any advice, or words of encouragement, or tasteful naked pictures of yourself (gents, I am so not talking to you here) that you’d like to send along, that would be peachy. I’ll check in tomorrow, after I’ve slept off another dose of NyQuil, seen my honey off to the airport, and given the new game a whirl. Let the weekend commence!Permalink | 5 Comments