It was a terrible mistake to teach her to play Black and White, I can see that now. See, one of the cool things about the game is that you can set it to name all the little villagers after your friends and co-workers. On the surface, this sounded like a good time.

The reality is that it gives me an uncomfortable glimpse into my girlfriend's psyche.

For example, this weekend I inadvertantly left the garage door open all afternoon. She wasn't happy when I got home but didn't say much. However, on the computer I noticed that she had painstakingly taken over an hour to carefully arrange an enormous, uh, pile of -- well -- dung. Sort of a, shall we say, pooramid. Massive. A 30-story crap. Dwarfing even the largest of structures, the villagers toiled day in and day out in the shadow of this giant mound of ... well, you get the picture.

And as I contemplated this massive pile of the bad stuff, I saw -- so tiny in comparison -- a little tiny villager crawling his way out from under the mass. Any guess as to what his name was?

Yeah, it was me.

She put me in a pile of poop, Jim. Things can't be going well when, you know, you wake up there.