The massive gift-exchange that was the entire month of December ended with a few new additions to the household — most notably, a Nintendo Wii system. Many are familiar with the interactive system, and most embrace the innovation of technological entertainment and physical activity that mark the Wii as perhaps the most universally appreciated gaming system currently on the market.

But let me tell you something, Wii. If I’m enjoying “playing” tennis or bowling for a while or spending more than a half hour using Wii Fit, I don’t need you suggesting that maybe I should take a break and go outside for a while. I’m moving around pretty well inside the confines of my own home, so why don’t you get off your high horse and let me be. Seriously, where does my VIDEO GAME SYSTEM get the nerve to tell me that maybe I could use some time outdoors? Plenty of alternative sources exist for that advice to be doled out: girlfriends, parents, wives, your whiny kids who want a turn.

Video games should not shun the fat, pale, lazy kids that have turned their industry into the booming financial success it has become. The Wii shouldn’t recommend you go outside for a while for the same reason a Wal-Mart employee should not tell someone who walks into the store with a hundred dollar bill they got for Christmas that maybe they should take it to the bank. It seems innovative, but it’s actually terrible business.

So, Nintendo Wii, I’m going to play you, but you’re just going to have to accept the fact that someone paid $200 so that I can enjoy the very leisure activities from the comfort of my own home rather than go out and sprain my ankle because the local tennis court is in terrible condition because the city doesn’t have the money to maintain public recreational facilities.

Child Development written and read by Billy Collins

I was introduced to Billy Collins through a poetry-writing course I took during my senior year of college. A few months ago, I downloaded some audio recordings of him reading a few of his poems and put them on my iPod. While going through my music tonight, I realized that this is the most listened-to “song” on my iPod. At first I was surprised, but after thinking about it, I realized this is one of the only recordings on my iPod that I never skip and always let it play through to the end (I have a tendency to press next 3/4 of the way through familiar songs). I was hesitant to post this, afraid that admitting I keep poetry on my iPod would come off as pretentious in the same manner that people insist they love opera or their favorite music is classical, but I really wanted to share it.

Sometimes, while huddled in my cubicle at work, when I’m at a point where I just want to pull my hair out or punch the computer monitor in front of me, this comes on my iPod, makes me laugh a little to myself and reminds me that although I’m getting older, there will always be a part of me that will never grow up.

Oh, and I don’t care what you say: if you were born after 1935 and have ever said your favorite music genre is classical or something to the effect of, “It doesn’t get any better than a Puccini aria,” then you’re a liar. Also, people probably think you’re an asshole. Not me, but almost everyone else. Okay, me too.

• Abby: Knock, knock.
• Me: Who's there?
• Abby: Orange.
• Me: Orange who?
• Abbey: Eat me!
• Me: Tell that one to your teacher.

Have you ever noticed that when single people congregate, the attitude towards each person’s relationship status remains a relative non-issue, but if you introduce a couple in a happy relationship to the group, the dynamic changes dramatically? Suddenly, it’s no longer good enough that you’re enjoying your youth, meeting different types of people and not pressuring yourself to explore a relationship with people you wouldn’t trust to walk your dog let alone take you on a date.

In my experience, once people decide that they are satisfied with their partner, they feel it important — their mission — to try and find a partner for single friends. At first, the act is casual, perhaps arranging group hangouts, which serve as a “singles mingle” event without the need to announce a desire for people to pair up. If that fails to produce results, “accidental” run-ins with single acquaintances at places you frequent with friends become noticeably more regular before resorting to the excruciatingly dreadful blind date.

People often reason that it’s comfortable for couples to spend time with other couples, but really? When people are in a relationship — especially during that early honeymoon phase where it is perceived that nothing can be better than actually being in a relationship — do couples even pretend to care what is going on around them? No. That is why high schools have rules banning public displays of affection, colleges have to explicitly list sex as a banned activity while one’s roommate is in the room, or why any man has ever seen a movie based on a Nicholas Sparks book.

That’s well and good, but what’s my point, you ask? Calm down. I’m getting there.

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To my dismay, when I am at the beach, I am usually accompanied by those who prefer to tan or read or do just about anything that sucks the fun out of not being at work on a nice afternoon. To distract myself, I do a lot of people-watching. Sometimes I take notes. Sometimes I forget about notes I take.As I was looking for an old grocery list this evening, I found the following excerpt on my iPod. I have not edited it, so this note appears in the form that it was when I completed it on the beach that day.

The beach is uncrowded for a midsummer, Saturday afternoon, though this probably has much to do with overcast and windy conditions. Unlike most, I love this type of beach weather.

Two men in their early thirties, probably brothers, throw a football around near the water. The older is standing somewhat in the foreground, closer to where his extended family has set up camp on the beach. Nearby, his adolescent daughter digs at the sand. After a few moments, she wanders over to him, lightly tugging at his bathing suit to get his attention, but he gently nudges her away. She persists, and he grows tired of discouraging her efforts to spend time together, coaxing a cousin of the girl to join her as they go to the shoreline.

The younger of the brothers cannot catch the ball with any consistency. He tries to play off his misses coolly, certainly aware that each drop further quashes any hope of utilizing his athleticism to impress the attractive female lifeguards nearby. It is clear the older brother hurls the ball across the beach with a fervor indicative of a latent need to relive what I can only assume are the glory days of collegiate flag-football games of yesteryear.

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