At work today, I received an email with an article titled, "21 signs you grew up in the 90s." It was really funny and made me laugh out loud which was refreshing after a long week. I enjoyed number 12 the most, "How to get a Furby or Tamagotchi to shut up."
If I had to add a few things of my own, I would add:
My lack of excitement was utterly disappointing to him. He was really hoping that we could sit down together and enjoy some Tecmo Bowl and drink some beers. Just like the good old days. Well, minus the beer of course. Or maybe not?
But the truth is, I was never that into Nintendo. First of all, we weren't allowed to own one. When we did finally get one it wasn't until the rest of the world had moved on to Nintendo 2 and no one wanted their original Nintendos anymore. So my sister and I bought a Nintendo ourselves at a garage sale. Even then, I wasn't good at it and I hated the fact that two people couldn't play at once. These kids today don't realize how lucky they are to play games simultaneously with one another. I feel like I spent most of my time waiting for my turn. When I was finally up, my sister would encourage me to "follow the mushrooms down the hole" and I would die instantly and go back to waiting for my turn again.
Tonight was no exception. After seeing how disappointed Pat was with my lack of interest, I decided to sit down and give it a try. Besides, maybe I would be better with some liquid courage. Negative. Pat's disappointed with my lack of interest soon transferred into a disappointment with my lack of talent at video games. After a few rounds of losing right away in Paper Boy (how realistic is that game anyway? Seriously, tornadoes and the grim reaper come out of nowhere and kill you), I gave up on game night and instead curled up on the couch with our dog, who as it turns out, is absolutely terrified of the Nintendo. He doesn't like the noises it makes and he doesn't like all the foreign objects on the living room floor. I've never claimed he was brave.
As I sat on the couch, watching Pat in all of his glory, bobbing his head to the music of Tyson's Punch Out, game night in the Robinson household quickly came to an end with a bang. Literally. This photo was taken moments after the exercise ball popped while Pat was sitting on it playing Nintendo. When it broke, Pat crashed to the floor landing directly on one of the points of Grady's deer antler. I'm probably not going to win any wife of the year awards for first taking a picture of him laying on the ground screaming in pain before ever asking if he was okay.
When he did finally get himself up off the ground, his only words were, "This is the worst game night ever." Not yet willing to give up on game night, though, Pat went to retrieve a dining room chair to replace the exercise ball and ended up spilling his beer in the process. And just when he thought things couldn't get worse, the game started to freeze. After several attempts to fix it (by taking it out and blowing in it - we all remember the routine), Pat, completely defeated in all aspects of the word, finally called it quits on game night. I believe deep down he blames me for all of the negative events that took place this evening. After all, it was my bad attitude about Nintendo game night that "set the tone," as he said, for the rest of the evening.
When I think about tonight's events, once I'm able to stop laughing, I feel kind of bad for the 28 year old Pat who so desperately wanted to relive the glory days of eight year old Pat when the only worries in life were building teams for backyard football and winning Nintendo games. But that only lasts for a second before I start thinking about the exercise ball popping and him falling to the ground and then I start laughing again.
Tomorrow, I'm not sure which will be more bruised; Pat's back or his pride.
If I had to add a few things of my own, I would add:
- Knowing the lyrics to the song, Da Dip. "I put my hand up on your hip. When I dip, you dip, we dip."
- When TGIF meant coming home from school on Fridays to watch Family Matters, Step by Step and Full House.
My lack of excitement was utterly disappointing to him. He was really hoping that we could sit down together and enjoy some Tecmo Bowl and drink some beers. Just like the good old days. Well, minus the beer of course. Or maybe not?
But the truth is, I was never that into Nintendo. First of all, we weren't allowed to own one. When we did finally get one it wasn't until the rest of the world had moved on to Nintendo 2 and no one wanted their original Nintendos anymore. So my sister and I bought a Nintendo ourselves at a garage sale. Even then, I wasn't good at it and I hated the fact that two people couldn't play at once. These kids today don't realize how lucky they are to play games simultaneously with one another. I feel like I spent most of my time waiting for my turn. When I was finally up, my sister would encourage me to "follow the mushrooms down the hole" and I would die instantly and go back to waiting for my turn again.
Tonight was no exception. After seeing how disappointed Pat was with my lack of interest, I decided to sit down and give it a try. Besides, maybe I would be better with some liquid courage. Negative. Pat's disappointed with my lack of interest soon transferred into a disappointment with my lack of talent at video games. After a few rounds of losing right away in Paper Boy (how realistic is that game anyway? Seriously, tornadoes and the grim reaper come out of nowhere and kill you), I gave up on game night and instead curled up on the couch with our dog, who as it turns out, is absolutely terrified of the Nintendo. He doesn't like the noises it makes and he doesn't like all the foreign objects on the living room floor. I've never claimed he was brave.
When he did finally get himself up off the ground, his only words were, "This is the worst game night ever." Not yet willing to give up on game night, though, Pat went to retrieve a dining room chair to replace the exercise ball and ended up spilling his beer in the process. And just when he thought things couldn't get worse, the game started to freeze. After several attempts to fix it (by taking it out and blowing in it - we all remember the routine), Pat, completely defeated in all aspects of the word, finally called it quits on game night. I believe deep down he blames me for all of the negative events that took place this evening. After all, it was my bad attitude about Nintendo game night that "set the tone," as he said, for the rest of the evening.
When I think about tonight's events, once I'm able to stop laughing, I feel kind of bad for the 28 year old Pat who so desperately wanted to relive the glory days of eight year old Pat when the only worries in life were building teams for backyard football and winning Nintendo games. But that only lasts for a second before I start thinking about the exercise ball popping and him falling to the ground and then I start laughing again.
Tomorrow, I'm not sure which will be more bruised; Pat's back or his pride.
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