I (Heart) Mario

Hello. My name is Woolhouse. Just Woolhouse. No other name. I'm like Cher, but a dude. And not all plastic-surgeoned up. And rarely- RARELY- do I dance on stage in lingerie.

If you would like to know more about me, you can read the front page of my Zaadz.com account, my MySpace account, or my profile on Damnyoubanana.com. You know where at least one of them is- you had to see it to click on "Blog"- so don't act like you don't. You're a lot smarter then anyone gives you credit for. This blog is not going to be about "getting to know The 'House." (Unless I get any of those "Getting to know you E-Mail Surveys." I rock at those.) This will, however, be about my life. And the people in it. Like this.

I was playing my Gamecube last night. I have always been a Nintendo fan, and will probably continue to be one 'til the day I die. I was playing "Tiger Woods '06." A great golf game. And my wife came in. Now, I love my wife, and I love doing things with her. She, however, does not generally love- or even like- doing all of the things that I like. So when she asked if she could play . . . I was leary.  She noticed my leariness, and- feeling bad- I suggested we instead play "Mario Toadstool Golf." It's a lot easier, and the graphics are much more visiually appealing to a casual gamer like Gina. So we switched it out . . . and then the fun began.

Before I continue: isn't Mario a whore? Not in the usual useage of the word (as I've never actually seen him pleasure anyone sexually for cash.) But in the "I'll-sell-my-name-to-anything-for-a-price" kind of way. My wife and I were about to play "Mario Golf." There is also the "Mario Party" board/video games; Mario Baseball; Mario Dance-Dance Revolution; Mario vs. Predator; that weird Mario fighting game where you can be Pikachu or Link or DOnkey Kong. At some point, Mario just needs to back off and say, "Hey. It's-a me; Mario. And no, I will not let you make-a "Iron Chef: Mario" video game-a, Nintendo!" But . . . $$$ talks.

Anyway, we started playing. Gina chose Yoshi, Mario's pet dinosaur. She always does. I chose Luigi, Mario's emotionally-abused and vastly-underrated little brother. And- after giving Gina some brief but thourough instructions- we played.

And this is where my wife, Gina Leigh Woolhouse ceased to exist, and Gina Dice Kinison* breathed life- and angry, angry curse words- into our living room.

You see, in normal everyday life, Gina is the nicest person in the world. She almost never has a negative word to say about anything or anyone. She always has a smile. And all of this has only doubled since we concieved and she has been with child. (We're at five months now.) But- when she gets that Nintendo controllor in her hand . . . she is pure evil. All it takes is her pushing the "A" button to get Yoshi to swing the ball: "D*** it, you f*****g dinosaur! Why did I even choose you? You don't even have any f*****g thumbs! I'm glad your family is extinct, b****!"

Yeah, for the entirety of the first hole, it's funny. I pull in a "par," and she finishes with a strong "triple-bogey." But then it continues. For 18 holes. And she won't stop. Our dog, a pug puppy named Penny, will take to hiding in the attic when we pull out the 'cube. How can she even get up there? I don't know, but she does. And she won't come down until she hears Gina through the controllor down one final time, and stomp into the bedroom.

BTW, when can the fetus start hearing sounds in the uterus? Because I'd like her to be a couple years older before she hears those words.

What's the point of this blog? What's the point of any blog? That's the point. My blogs have no point. No blogs do. They're just a way for me- nay, all of us- to share with you all many, many little aspects of my/our life. And this is just one aspect: my wife going ape s*** insane when she plays video games. It seems like this is a recurring theme in all women: sugar and sweet on the inside, but get them in front of Mario and his tamborine (I don't know what game this would be) and they lose it.

That's all. I'll write more later. Much later. About a week. Yeah, once a week, I'll write something.  Also, once a week, damnyoubanana.com will have updated Horoscopes. Check them out.

http://www.damnyoubanana.com

*A combination of noted dirty comic Andrew Dice Clay and the late Sam Kinison.