What’s my age again?

Happy birthday, LiLo!

Recently, a blogger friend of mine inherited something worth far more than rubies or pearls. She received an Xbox. So as she relayed to me the joys of playing Tiger Woods Golf and beating the likes of Stuart Appleby and Stewart Cink, I began to get the fever.

I considered renting Tiger Woods Golf, but then the thought of a 34-year-old man renting a video game crossed my mind, and I decided that’s just not the public image I want to present.

So instead, I hooked up my old Nintendo. That’s the original NES, with the familiar, classic two-button pad controller. And I began playing Tecmo Super Bowl.

So far I’m 13-0 in the 1991 NFL Season playing with the Dallas Cowboys. Emmitt Smith was kicking tail, leading the league in rushing until he got injured two weeks ago. Hopefully, he’ll make it back soon. If not, that could really put a damper on our run to Super Bowl XXVI. Alonzo Highsmith is just not getting it done as his backup.

Anyway, these past couple of days (yes, you can play 13 games in two days, relatively easily) has brought back some great memories. Sore thumbs, 8-bit graphics, and having to blow on the game cartridge repeatedly when it blue screens. I never really understood how that worked, but it always does.

I feel like I’m 13 again. And in a sense, I probably am.

“No one should take themselves so seriously. With many years ahead to fall in love, why would you wish that on me? I never want to act my age. Whats my age again…”