juke box hero

I played Guitar Hero for the first time last week. I’m sure the game has been out for eighty thousand years, and I’m behind the times. So what else is new. Anyway, it was really fun. As in, making me laugh out loud fun. A) because I’m a dork and B) because I took to it pretty easily. Now I want to own it, which is probably a bad idea. If I end up having my own copy, here’s how it’ll go down.

The first day, I’ll play for two hours straight. Then I’ll feel guilty that I played a stupid video game for that long, so I’ll put up my plastic guitar and do something else. The next day, I’ll get up extra early and play the game until lunch. I will become consumed with mastering all five of the songs on level three (or whatever – I only played the game for a little while). My eyes will become dry and watery at the same time, and every time I blink it’ll feel like I’m rubbing sandpaper across my orbs. My back will hurt from the rocker pose I will have while kicking the game’s ass. This will continue, after work, on weekends, “for just five minutes” before work, until I have beaten the game into submission. Then I will toss it in the corner, forgotten, and never play it again.

Months or years later, I’ll run across the game and the plastic guitar, and I’ll have the fond remembrance of a past love who was fun but wasn’t a candidate for the long haul. Like a really hot but mildly retarded guy.