Crap.

I don't even know what else to say. I was blindsided. I was simply sitting on the couch, watching the only thing our television produces - Tiger Woods PGA Tour 2006. Next thing I know, The Fiance used his trickery and wit, and I found myself creating a persona on the video game - which, just so you know, is creepy. I created a golfer who has my hair, my freckles, my ass and even the ring on my right hand. Everything down to the chin and calf size can be altered to look just-like-you. Freaky. "Kritta," or so we named her, even has a voice, whose voice pitch can be altered, of course, to sound just-like-me.

I shudder.

Anyhow. Suddenly, there I am. On the couch. Me, the controller and "Kritta." And The Fiance, he left me. Alone on the couch. With nothing but Tiger Woods PGA Tour 2006. And I BEGAN TO PLAY.

And I KEPT PLAYING.

And all of a sudden it was 9 p.m., and I was yelling things at the computer-generated, French guy named Montague who was trying to beat me in a round of golf. I may or may not have called him a Douchelord, something I recently picked up from The Onion.

When The Fiance retreated from his lair to determine what all the fuss was about, and he had the nerve to try and kiss me and get IN THE WAY of the television, I was forced to put him in his place because, Jesus, CAN'T YOU SEE I'm playing Golf, here? God.

It's his dream come true.

krittabug