Last Christmas, your sweet children presented you with a Wii. At first, truth be told, you weren’t quite exactly sure what it was. Or rather, the strange magical world that Wii-Fit held inside.
And so it began. Your children got it all hooked up for you in the den, and even set up the “Wii Plaza”–which is full of characters that look just like your family (except your son added a beard and dark glasses to his Wii figure) all milling around to strange jangly music. They even installed a cute little Wii dog, that looks like your dog, Woody. They demonstrated how to carefully stand on the Wii board, (which is sort of like a skateboard without wheels), and how to lean this way and that to avoid flying objects such as snowballs and hula hoops. Later, after some ‘calorie roaster’ arm flapping, and some uncoordinated kung fu moves, the unit went into hibernation.
Until this morning, when it dawns on you to exercise inside in order to beat the heat. It takes you awhile to figure out how to turn the Wii unit on--waving the remote control around to find the mouse. Finally up pops Wii Plaza! There’s your whole little Wii family looking back at you and waving! They all look as happy as clams, but you know soon they’ll be throwing snowballs or hula hoops at you, or watching you with consternation from the background as you attempt the kung fu moves again and end up with a bucket on your head. (And what the heck is a nunchuk?)
“Hi Sullivan, welcome back!” the cute animated Wii board says, and then basically starts in with the guilt trips. “It’s been 225 days since we last saw you!” Well, what if you’ve been tied up training for the Boston Marathon, for example? Since you are alone, you decide to get on the Wii scale. Basically, you weigh a little too much, according to the Powers that Wii. Feeling a slight Big Brother vibe, you quickly cut over to the Yoga routine.
Your gate and tree moves rank as ‘amateur,’ but the minute you choose a move that’s done, well, off of the Wii board, you perform like a rock star (since the secret sensor can’t detect your falling over). Soon you get into a groove, and you even start to like the young woman trainer who helps you, (who looks like she could be named something nice like “Cathy”) even though she constantly chides you on being a little shaky. Then Cathy invites you in a nice buddy-buddy tone to work on some strengthening exercises. That’s a plan, you think. Suddenly, right before you strike the next pose, Cathy vanishes, and there’s a new strange young man standing there, informing you in a cool robotic voice that he will your new trainer. He looks like his name could be “Ken,” and that he could be from a cult. You do not want to do the cobra with Ken.
Where did Cathy go? What else does Cathy have going on today? You don’t want a male trainer, you were just fine with Cathy! Who is this dude? What if he admonishes you by saying something like, “Sullivan, you kind of suck at downward facing dogs.”
You turn off the unit but still have the faintest sense that Wii is watching you as you leave the room. Hmph. You’ll get the remainder of your requisite forty minutes walking the dog, 150 degrees or not. Then it starts misting outside and your walk with Woody is cancelled. You turn, tail between legs, back to the Wii and cut it on.
Lo and behold, Cathy is back. From cyber-spacedom, from doing some light Wii shopping, from grabbing a green tea frappucino, whatever. Maybe later she can even help you mainstream Netflix onto the Wii.
Actually, the green tea frapp sounds pretty good. Back in a few.
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