My husband loves me. I know that, unquestionably. But he sometimes does things with the best of intentions that result in my detriment, one way or another.
He was able to find, from what I can only imagine was the depths of Hades, a CD for our XBox, with every, and I mean every, game that was ever created for Atari, Colecovision, Nintendo, and Sega. All of them. Pitfall, Asteroids, Space Invaders, Pole Position, Pong, Sea to Air Combat, Centipede, Mario, Tetris, Sonic the Hedgehog, all of it.


As these games heavily punctuated my childhood, and couple that with the nostalgia-trip I’ve been on as of late, you can see the problem.

I have been playing Super Mario Bro.’s for three solid hours this afternoon. Three. I came home from work at 3:00, changed clothes, and hopped into our large leather recliner and zoned out. Then remembered that it was past the dogs’ dinnertime, reluctantly paused Mario, fed and walked the dogs, hopped back on once again, and zoned out for another hour.

I have a painting to work on. I have laundry to do. I don’t have time for this shit.

Like I said, I have no doubt my husband loves me. But.

So, World’s-Largest-Doodle painting is coming along well. Or, it was before the damn video games arrived.


Game Over.

Voulez-voulez-vous Game Over.

6 thoughts on “>problem.

  1. Merujo

    >If I ever have a house with space for silly things, I will have to find an old, real-deal Tempest arcade game. Then, I can pretend it’s 1984 and I am a happily clueless 18-year-old, spinning away and blasting the living crap out of geometric patterns.


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