proof that my husband is now a hick

nick came home the other day with some new playstation games. one of them was nascar racing. yes, you read that right. nascar.

so we play it, and my car crashes into the wall a few times (okay, alot of times), and catches on fire.

heres' a lesson in life: when you're going 180 mph, you can't make sharp turns.

then again, in real life, you're not driving with a joystick. so in real life, i might be able to drive 180 mph, but i'm not about to try it.

even if i survived the experience, i probably wouldn't escape without a ticket... and probably worse. no cop in his right mind would not arrest someone who was going that fast.

yeah, what excuse are you gonna give the officer. "well, i just say that movie about ricky bobby, and wanted to see what it was like!"

right. i'll stick to the game.

and the game has smart-alecky comments when you do this, like "you're not makin' friends with the body shop, boy!" in a very southern accent.

so i say something rude back, which nick thinks is funny. yeah, it is funny. i'm insulting a computer. great. you know you're crazy when...

but even though i am horrible at it, it's actually pretty fun. and what can be more enjoyable than seeing the person who was laughing at you get up to 8th place, only to be knocked off the track by another driver and ending up at the back again.

life is sweet. so is irony.

(by the way, nick just read this over my shoulder and was quick to point out that he actaully did win a race.)

anyway, i think i'll go play it again. perhaps this time, i can manage not to set my car on fire and maybe get higher than 18th place.