I’m thirty-three years old with a lot of experience under my belt (and a fat roll) but I never thought this could happen to me. I thought I was beyond it, frankly, but I guess an old girl can still have first-times.

I have a blister on my hand. Much to a certain man’s dismay, it’s not from what you might think. In fact, it’s from something that is a dirty little secret of mine.

I play video games.

This weekend, after a year of hiatus, I dug out a game that I had nearly completed. Only one blasted race remained and dang it! if I couldn’t get that stinkin’ Darius to bow down and call me queen. As I set up the gaming device, I was determined to make him submit to me, vehicularly speaking. After three hours – I didn’t believe husband at first that I had played for so long until he reminded me that he had watched an entire movie and an episode of Law and Order – I finally claimed victory. I must say, it felt great to watch the cut-to-movie clip when that punk kid who had framed me for stealing money and then rubbed my face in it by telling me he had used that money to buy things that I couldn’t for the girl that he stole from me, hand over his keys and admit that I OWNED him. Own-Ed. And I got the girl back, too.

No victory goes unpunished, and I now sport a shiny, red circle on my left index finger as a war trophy. Darius has been defeated and the Spiderflies reign in video-racing land. Hmh. Spiderflies. What sort of racing-gang name is that? The year ago me was so lame.