Dear Diary, How many times do I have to listen to my husband tell me how tired he is after a crazy night of watching poker and playing “call of duty” on the wii? I’m up folding laundry, signing homework and returning e-mails all night and in the morning I get to listen to him complain about how tired HE is. Does he not understand that running through a fake field of soldiers with a machine gun or oozie is not “real” exercise? That he can go to bed at a reasonable hour without the fear of being branded a “deserter” because he left a man-down on the battlefield. I’m sure his fake cartoon soldier friends will understand. Although….I’m just waiting for him to tell me he’s taking a day off because he might be suffering from wii “post traumatic stress disorder”. Then I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to punch him in the face.