Wii

This is a repost from a couple of years ago and I’ve chosen it because it’s still so very relevant. It just goes to show that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

The new Wii  that B bought me for Christmas has been a big hit with all of the family and used every single day at least once. B has discovered that it has a flying game which he’s fallen in love with. Not that he gets much physical activity out of it.A single flick of the wrist and he’s looping the loop in his pretend plane and screeching, ‘Look at that!  Look at that. It’s great, isn’t it?’

“Yeah, great.” (yawn).

What I’ve discovered on my Wii Fit board is that it has a hidden  ‘stupidometer’ built in to it and every time it’s coerces you to get into a position where you look really bloody stupid it emits  a silent but powerful signal to alert all other people in the vicinity that now would be a good time to enter the living room for a good laugh.

As part of my ‘get fit’ campaign,  because I refuse to be fat and 50,  I’ve been making good use of the Wii Fit and the various muscle toning and stretching exercises on it.

Some of the exercises involve various contortions of the body, you know, the ones that have you saying to yourself, ‘Please God don’t let anyone come in while I’m doing this.’

I swear to God, within seconds of me getting into a stupid position, generally one that involves the blood all flowing to my head,  the sodding door opens and someone strolls in to be faced with the sight of my  humungous arse is waving about in the air. It’s like magic!   As soon as that arse is in the air, the door opens. Poor N didn’t know what to do when he walked in on me last week. Pointing and laughing wouldn’t have been the thing I recommend he do but that was what he chose. Dammit.  Boy, were my cheeks red. All of ’em!

B went to a long and boring meeting down south last weekend.  We all have out little ways of dealing with boredom, I favour going to sleep but that isn’t always the most socially acceptable.  B’s way of dealing with it is to start picking at his nails.

Pick, pick, pick. OW!!

Pick, pick, pick. REALLY OW!!!

Pick pick pick, Oh!  I’M BLEEDING!!

His poor little thumb nails were picked down way past the quick. He’s regretting it now of course because they hurt like stink. You don’t realise how much you use your digits until they hurt. It caused me much hilarity watching him trying to button up his shirt yesterday, yelping with pain. Sympathy? Not a chance, self inflicted wounds mate. I recommend next time  you get a bit bored just try having a little doze, it’s a lot less painful.

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