Marika Malaea

faithful marauder + fake royal

Hardcore Gangsta

with 3 comments

Photo: My kind of gang.

Idle hands are the Devil’s tools, or so I’ve been told by Chaucer; mine aren’t tools, really, because that implies activity and usefulness. Mine are more like meathooks without hooks; adding actual hooks sounds like a lot of work–I’m not a welder or a goddamn surgeon, I’m a former-this who wants to be a future-that. I’m also hungry, which for some reason seems more important; this is probably why I’m idle and failing. Instead of writing the next great American novel, I’m pondering my sandwich meat options. It’s the perfect metaphor for my life.

When teenagers are idle, they get into teenage trouble; beers in the woods, the occasional shake-filled joint, flunking a class, sex on a youth group trip (all stuff that I, ironically, avoided in high school–I just wasn’t cool or fearless enough). When adults are idle, they get into adult trouble; late with the rent, too many beers, a bad work review, sex with a secretary. Same stuff, twenty years later.

I’m somewhere between being a teenager and being an adult; my protracted, painful adolescence has been hard to shake, mostly because I refuse to loosen my grip, which tends to be a problem when trying to let go of things. I thought I had avoided all of the trouble one could get into as an adult, but last night–inevitably–my idle time led me further astray than I had ever dreamed: I joined a gang.

Look–don’t freak out–but I’m all gangster now, or maybe I’m a gangsta; gangster sounds Sicilian, gangsta sounds illiterate. Whatever I am, I’m hardcore. Well, the gang isn’t that hardcore, we’re not cracking skulls on the street or anything. Yes, we’re terrifying, and we’re certainly a gang, but it’s not like we have weapons. Plus, everyone but me is white (although I’m probably the whitest)–how frightening could we be? Our bodies are our weapons! We can break you with our bare hands! Our healthy hearts and happy livers will crush you like the pea-sized ants you are! Where does this newfound confidence come from, you ask? From my partners in crime, from my homeboys. See, I joined a WiiFit Gang last night. And we’re coming to an online exercise plaza near YOU to fuck you up.

Hear me now: I love our WiiFit Gang. It consists of us and our building neighbors. One of them brought home WiiFit last night, and we had so. much. fun. First I had to sign my little Mii up–an avatar that looks just like me, only cuter and thinner, which is what I look like in my mind–and her name is Bee (my longtime, childhood nickname–something you must earn to use, FYI). You stand on this fit-board thingy, and go through a BMI test (frightening), a balance test (hard), instructions, goal-setting, and then start training. The best part was having my tiny little Bee on screen, getting her BMI; once the fucker figured out I was overweight, my little Bee became a round, lumpy Mii, filling out so she could mirror my sad, brown, barrel-shaped body. That was special.

We all took turns making goals and working with the online trainer; weirdly, the male trainer was created without junk, but the female trainer was packing heat. Michelle said maybe we’re going to be exercising everything, which is unappealing to me–I don’t want some big ol’ moose knuckle down there (“camel toe” for brown people), thanks but no thanks. We couldn’t stop laughing, during training or our breaks, which had to be good for our overall health, too. There were also a ton of games to play; there was one where you had to head-butt soccer balls that are flying at you, but dodge the non-soccer detritus. All of the little Miis were lined up in soccer uniforms, waiting to kick the ball at me; my favorite part was when Cory got biffed repeatedly in the face by flying objects: soccer balls, soccer cleats, panda bear heads, the usual. Michelle passed the hoola hoop section, and I rocked on the Ski Slalom event. Cory also learned how to become a yoga tree (a painful process, apparently), and Justin schooled everyone on the Basic Step Aerobics. It was like being at a health-conscious carnival with your buddies. Included in WiiFit is a whole yoga section, strength training, balance testing, and aerobics; WiiFit records everything and keeps track of your weight and your BMI. And just like a game, you have to earn points to unlock more stuff, so it’s competitive. You have an audience cheering for you the whole time, and your friends can participate. I haven’t had that much fun exercising in my entire life; I feel like I’ve had many chances in my life to join a gang, but it wasn’t until now that it actually made sense. An exercise gang–who would have thought? I’m ready to kick some Nintendo WiiFitt ass.

Meh, no sandwich meats today, only tuna. And after that I’ll write the next great American novel, or maybe take a nap.


Written by sn0tteh

May 20, 2008 at 6:02 PM

Posted in WiiFit

3 Responses

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  1. I am intrigued and fascinated! Tell me more…


    May 21, 2008 at 3:03 AM

  2. Buy me a Wii and I’ll tell you all you want.

    Snotty McSnotterson

    May 21, 2008 at 5:42 AM

  3. Go Bee Go!!


    May 23, 2008 at 3:43 AM

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