Hubby and I come into some serious pwnage

“So,” I told Hubby, “I asked Squirt if he turned his report and he tells me he forgot! AGAIN.”

“Are you telling me that boy missed another deadline? He’ll be kicked out of the program!”

“Nope. It turns out he was just kidding me. But holy cow, I really blew up at him.”

“Ha!” Hubby bellowed. “Face it, babe, you got pwned.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“‘Pwned’? ‘PWNED’? You’re gonna use gamer lingo on ME? And whose side are you on, anyway?”

Hubby started to do a bobble thing with head as he wagged his finger at me. “Babe,” he said, “I am hippest of the hip. The coolest of the cool. And take it from me: you got pwned.”

What a turncoat. I mean, really, is it too much for me to expect my man to back me up when I need it? Especially when he supplied half the DNA to a kid who forgets deadlines as frequently as he scarfs down chow?

The kids came in at that moment so I could say no more, but the battle lines had been drawn.

Hubby knew it, too. He smiled.

I smiled right back. Heh! I’d show HIM pwning.

“So dad,” said Squirt, “Grandma just told me she’s mad because she lost money on you.”


“Yeah! Grandma says she bet Kat that you could figure out how to replace the fuses on the Halloween lights before Mom could, but Mom beat you to it and Grandma had to pay up.”

It took me some seconds to get past my mother-in-law’s lack of faith in my fuse-changing abilities. But then I realized my opportunity for retaliation had popped up much more quickly than I’d expected.

“Face it, babe,” I told Hubby, “you got PWNED.”

“Ugh! Mom!” said Tiger. “You can’t say ‘pwned’.”

“What?” I was indignant. “Why not?”

“You’re too—er, um… you just don’t know how to use it right.”

Hubby smiled. “Oh, she knows how to use it,” he said. “In fact, your mother was just telling me how SQUIRT PWNED HER YESTERDAY.”

Tiger cringed again. “Ugh! You shouldn’t use it, either, Dad.”

Hubby looked at me with raised eyebrows. He apparently expected the two of us to deal as allies against this blatant age discrimination. Yeah, right. Like I’d EVER collaborate with a traitor.

Hubby’s head began bobbling again. He wagged his finger at Tiger. “Yo, boy! In case you haven’t noticed, I am hippest of the hip. The coolest of the cool. And if I say you are pwned, YOU ARE PWNED.”

Squirt shuddered. “You’re right,” he told Tiger, “somehow it sounds wrong when they say it.”

“Hello!” thundered Hubby. “I am THE PWNER!”

The boys grimaced and squirmed. I have to admit, I was enjoying their ageist discomfort. Hubby was a turncoat, sure, but these pups were trying to curtail our right to free speech!

“Yeah!” I said, brushing aside my plot to leave Hubby to the teenage wolves. “You might say Dad is the original opPWNent.”

“Ha!” Hubby roared. “Good one, babe!” We high-fived each other. “Just call me MR. PWN!”

The boys rolled their eyes, but Hubby was just warming up. “I am the pwnER, not the pwnEE!”

“Look what you’ve started,” said Squirt.

“Right,” said Tiger, “like you didn’t pwn Mom in the first place.”

I am he,” Hubby proclaimed loud enough for the entire cul-de-sac to hear, “WHO PWNS UNCEASINGLY!

Indeed. The man may need to work on his marital teamwork skills, but when it comes to unceasing pwnage, nobody can squelch teen rebellion with it like he can.

15 Replies to “Hubby and I come into some serious pwnage”

  1. Wow, good thing Boy just sticks with owning someone or I’d still be lost. πŸ˜‰

    Wait, I am. πŸ˜€

    The joys of teen speak.

    Great post, Bonnie.

  2. When the little teenagers say silly things like “pwned” the best defense is to say it so many times back at them that they start believing it’s uncool and then they willingly stop the saying it themselves. At least that’s the way it works in our household. I’ve done it many times and so far it’s worked wonders. Last spring it was “face” like “in your face”. They don’t say that anymore either.

  3. Hmm, using something teens like in order to make them stop doing it. Do you think if adults started wearing their pants halfway down to their knees, that silly style would finally go away?

  4. Wonderful Bonnie…I love it! BTW, seeing as you were a bit peeved with us for not noticing and reporting a typo to you a few posts back, thought I would ask you to do the same for me if you see anything in my essays…and, er…you may want to check the first sentence of the last paragraph in this post. Me thinks “many” should ready “may.” Hope you don’t mind chica…but you asked and I do aim to please.

    Ciao bella…I’m off to pwn somebody.

  5. I asked my husband how to pronounce “Pwn.” He’s a 34-year-old gamer. He explained it’s said “pone” and means owned. I sai why now just say “owned”? His response? “Because it wouldn’t be geeky if you said the real word.”

    Nuff said.

  6. Honey, me, too. I’ve seen it spelled “p0wned” and originally wrote this that way, but Squirt made me promise to change it back to “pwn.”

    You and me both, Steve. Who knew? Some of us must be genetically programmed as part of the pwned pool, no matter what.

    Thank you, Welshcakes, and I’m glad you’re back! I’m certain Simone is glad, too!

    Kristen, I missed you while you were traipsing through the Emerald Isle! You’ve got me wondering where I can get my mits on some boxty.

    Hubby/Big Daddy, I totally forgot about “face.” They used it a lot like “pwned” and it drove me nuts—until you came up with that.

    Ms. Karen! Gad, is that the stupidest fashion we’ve ever seen, or what? I am always fighting the strongest urge to sneak up behind a low-rider and YANK HIS PANTS DOWN. The only reason I don’t is because I’m pretty sure they’d get a little testy about it.

    Dennie, that’s how I was, living in the sweet ignorance of pre-adolescence, and then POW. Most of the time I have no idea what they’re talking about.

    Gah! Teri! Thank you for catching that for me.

  7. I was completely clueless about this post hahahahhaha I wandered for ages (still without clue) in the pronunciation link only to return and reread finally giving up and embracing my cluelessness ~in spite of not knowing what on earth you were talking about, I laughed –that’s saying something, Bonnie!

    If you ever want boxty, c’mon over. I make it all the time.

  8. How did I miss your comment, Jaye? I should’ve included a pronounciation guide. Whenever I hear it I think of a Southerner friend of mine who used to say, “you ole’ corn pone, you.”

    I know, M.G., and it’s scary!

    Murray, I had to look that one up. You show-off!

  9. I think the cingular reason for having children is tormenting them! I think it’s a fair trade for the many sleepless nights!

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