Because no one reads blogs on weekends, here's something most of you don't care about (but should): video games.

Professional Gaming League Tournament, Day 1.

Quarterback sized blonds with matching haircuts are running the event and the guys who are winning seem way cooler than the ones who are loosing. It’s a lot like high school, except one thing. Everyone is getting along.

In the first hour and a half of the tournament, only five females enter the room. Two appear to be mothers of gamers. Two appear to be girlfriends of gamers. Only one touches a controller.

There are a few odd parents displaced throughout the room. One is sitting at the back by himself, a briefcase under his seat, talking on a cell phone. Another, a mom in heels, watches her son play.

The uniform is a hooded sweatershirt, a ballcap, baggy jeans and skate shoes. The average attendee is probably below the legal drinking age.

A pre-teen on his cell phone summed up the general appeal: “Seriously, you should come. It’s so sick. They’ve got huge TVs they’re giving out huge cans of energy drinks.”