Why I should've mulled that gift over some more

Last fall I bought Andy an XBox360 and gave myself personal pats on the back for being a winning girlfriend. What I didn't consider is the paranoia-inducing online integration of this splendid device, and how that gift would come to serve the same purpose as the man I regularly see "walking" in Hillsboro with his arms flailing, shouting marching orders to HIMSELF with a single outstretched finger, violently jutting outward to the rhythm of an unidentified but likely upbeat song on his ipod: it creeps me out.

Andy's recently gotten into playing Halo 3 while hooked in to XBox LIVE, which allows him to converse with other players from around the globe. Thankfully, he wears a headset to spare me the obscene ramblings of adolescent boys and 35-year-old basement-dwellers. But that also means I only hear what he says to his teammates, which means I'll be in the kitchen washing dishes when I'll hear this:

Andy: Watch out - there's a guy behind you! I can't get there in time!!!
Me: What?!?!
Andy: He's to your left! TO YOUR LEFT!!!
Me: [heart sinks to balls of feet, senses impending death, looks to the left, cries in rocking motion on floor]
Andy: Ha! Red team got him. Niiiiiiice.

If you've never been tested as to whether your response in life or death situations is fight or flight, this is a great way to do so. Let's just say that if you surprise me in my home, you may be the victim of flying culinary tools.

Other random gametime outbursts I hear from the other room include those that make me chuckle:
"Get in, get in, get in! Ugggghhh!"

Those that make me concernicus:
"Is anyone there? Who's there?"

... And those that sound just plain psychotic:
"We're going to die. We're all going to diiieee!!!"