Right now CJ is sitting behind me, playing our video game in which we kill orcs and goblins and shit. I can't play, of course, because my arm is still feeling bad, so it's kind of like being grounded the night of a big party. Except sneaking out and going to play with him would only make my arm hurt a lot, so. I recently won a free raffle at work for a Halo board game -- that's right, a cardboard and plastic-playing-pieces version of the super best-selling video game. I was just looking through it before I started writing this, and I think playing it will just make me feel sad. Maybe not, but I wouldn't know, since CJ won't stop playing his video game in order to try it out with me. (I am writing this in order for him to feel guilty later. Don't tell him!)
Today I went to the bead store to get more wire. While I was there a flock of ladies came in and loudly oohed and aahed at everything they saw. It reminded me of the time a couple of weeks ago when two middle-aged couples came in to Faces and tried on wigs, which made them laugh so loudly and so crazily that I thought there was a danger they might wet themselves. I like a wig as much as the next person, but they don't get more than a chuckle out of me. These people were laughing as though seeing their husband wearing a fake afro was the most clever and hilarious thing ever. Maybe my comedic standards are too high?