Real Life is Such a Drag

So, I'm in NYC yesterday... spent the day there seeing Batman in IMAX, ate at Ruby Foos, got my wife's boobs measured at a posh bra place (no thats not a randomly weird comment), had dessert at Serendipity... all the good things a true Newyawkuh would do, and not be ashamed to almost seem touristy about doing. Know what I mean?

But here layeth the problem...

It started when I was crossing the 59th street bridge, and I yelled "Liberty City, here I come!"

Now, my wife knows I love Grand Theft Auto IV. I play it like I get paid to play it. Every spare second I get, I'm either cruising the streets just to kill people, or I'm actually playing the game. Either way, the smile I wear is WAAAAAAY to big.

So back to the driving in the city. On numerous occasions throughout the day, I felt my wife's hand on my arm, or I could feel her eyes of fury reign upon me. With each feeling, it was accompanied by the quote "we aren't playing the game, dear."

Sad. True. More sad though.

Is it me, or have you ever... **please, only ponder this thought if you have had the pleasure of driving in Manhattan around 5:30 when 6 million people feel like they should cross the street, and 3 million taxis feel like they have the right of way, no matter what way they are facing** ...wished that you were actually capable of being that character from a video game? Where there are no laws (or if there are, you just hide for 30 seconds, and your wanted level disappears), no rules, and anything goes!!!!

Oh man, yesterday, I would have loved to run over countless people.. hit one of the buttons within my car, so I could get a different angle view of the front of the car to make sure there was blood on the hood. HA!

And then, just to make sure, I could get out of the car, and blow off a head or too... I guess for good measure? Who knows, maybe they'd even have a glowing green stack of cash laying next to them, so I can run over it, and without bending down, have it magically added to my bank account?

Ahhhh video game life... how sweet it is.

But there I sat... in the car. Wife next to me, actually wondering if her already borderline maniacal husband was going to snap and take out a few jaywalkers. I might have. But I'm not meant for prison. I'm too fragile. But if I figure out how to lose my wanted level in real life by driving like a giant lunatic, and hiding for 30 seconds... WATCH OUT... I'M GUNNIN' FOR YA!