Every Christmas morning I, my two teenaged spawn of Satan, and my seventy-one year old mother gather for Christmas breakfast at my brother’s house. With the entire crew (mother excluded because she thinks we’re all bonkers) still clothed in our favorite flannel pajamas (yes, it actually gets chilly in Florida) we gorged on Sister Schubert’s Sausage Wrap Yeast Rolls, homemade monkey bread, and a selection of breakfast-type pork items. Suddenly, amid the sparkle and gaiety of that magical morning, my nine year old niece screamingly discovered the “most awesome” gift of the holiday season……a Wii. Once Beelzebub and Linda Blair spied the Wii their own roars and snarls of excitement filled the air.
Our gluttonous souls contented, we herded ourselves toward the living room to watch these lovely children partake in Christmas morning activities. Gathered around the big-screen television and after restlessly scrutinizing forty-seven minutes of syncing the handheld controllers we were finally ready to experience this revolutionary and effortless technology. Admiring the ease at which some of the games were played I inquired as to whether or not I may have a turn. The progeny said yes.
Our gluttonous souls contented, we herded ourselves toward the living room to watch these lovely children partake in Christmas morning activities. Gathered around the big-screen television and after restlessly scrutinizing forty-seven minutes of syncing the handheld controllers we were finally ready to experience this revolutionary and effortless technology. Admiring the ease at which some of the games were played I inquired as to whether or not I may have a turn. The progeny said yes.
Three days later I was fit into my doctor’s excessively busy schedule for numerous cortisone shots due to the fact I wrenched an elbow, threw out a hip, twisted a shoulder, and stubbed a toe. All of this while trying to pick the booger from a giant nose with a wireless handheld “finger”. Thank goodness I had recently trimmed my nails.
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