I only got about two hours of sleep Sunday night. No, I wasn’t out drinking all night. Come on, people, it’s God’s day! Come on!

No, the reason I slept so little is because of a long-standing tradition among my friends and I. It’s video game night at my house.

And it is the steadfast, tried and true form of bonding among my friends.

You see, dear reader, my friends and I are among a special breed known as “nerds.” There are many different types of nerds. You’ve got your geeks, dweebs, dorks and spazzes.

But, the motley crew of nerds I have been associating with closely for the better part of a decade is known as “gamers.” And we have celebrated our devotion to this chosen lifestyle every Sunday evening for around the past five years by assembling our congregation and worshiping at the alter of the Xbox.

It is the reason I am mostly useless Monday mornings, but it is also the way we have found time to bond and goof off at least a few hours every week.

And these times grow ever more necessary with every passing year; we get older, busier, tire sooner and, some of us even have girlfriends who quickly grow weary of watching us play or waiting up for us every weekend.

Our little gatherings began soon after the release of the first “Halo” game. For years, we simply called it Halo Sunday, because of the staying power of such a finely crafted game (cough-endorsement deal-cough) but mostly because of the fact most of us owned a copy of the game so most of us could play at once.

But, really, it has just been an excuse to relive the days of high school when we would often get together at my friend Nick’s house and do, well, pretty much the same thing except insert “Goldeneye” for the N64 in place of “Halo.”

For a few hours each week, we all put our worries, responsibilities and hangovers aside in order to sit around, shooting the living bejesus out of one another, screaming obscenities and lewd jokes that would make George Carlin spin in his grave (rest his foul-mouthed soul) and unwind.

Some would have you believe video games are a rot on the moral fiber of our nation’s youth. Poppycock, I say. Furthermore, I owe most of my hand-eye coordination to video games. But that’s neither here nor there.

There are those who would tell you video games are a waste of time. However, I spent 10 years playing soccer and I spent more than 70 hours beating “Final Fantasy VII,” and I can assure you I received far more satisfaction from beating that game than the cold, hard sensation of riding the bench that made up my high school athletic career.

The fact of the matter, my friends, is this: gone are the days of paper cuts by way of Magic cards and in is the age of the calloused video game thumb. And in participating in such, I have spent more time with my friends, swearing, screaming, throwing digital grenades, making stupid inside jokes and losing sleep than any other hobby could ever have afforded me.

And, despite the sleep deprivation and my girlfriend’s agitation, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

David Thill is a senior journalism major and can be can be reached at [email protected] or 581-2812.