I went over to a friend's house the other night to watch the UFC. I don't know what number it was, but BJ Penn fought Georges St. Pierre and it was great. Lots of pummelling, but not a lot of knock-outs. Actually, it was great despite that last bit. The best part of the night was playing some Rock Band with my friend and his three daughters. They range from about 4 to 12 years in age and are a lot of fun. Something about hearing a sweet little 9 year-old sing Enter Sandman just warms my heart.
Thanks to my hours of practice at home, I was able to hold my own on guitar and drums. I even sang Highway Star. My music game domination stopped short of accepting a challenge to Dance Dance Revolution. I want those girls to think of me as their cool Uncle Marcus, not some spastic who blew out his knee slipping on a plastic sensor mat.
