On Sunday it rained all day — which is really becoming a straight pain in the ass here in North Carolina. We planned to hang out with two of our young nieces, so we let them decide what we were going to do since our original outside plan was foiled. Their decision? Dave & Busters. Why? Last time they were there they saw a fake poop in the arcade that they couldn’t live without winning. Now, originally I was all for this and I thought playing a bunch of games would be pretty fun… even if the endgame was a piece of plastic crap.
Wrong. Wrong on all accounts.
Our Dave & Busters is in our mall. I didn’t take into account it would be full of parents that want to shop on weekends but not deal with their kids. So, of course the easy answer was to let the arcade babysit them. There were dozens of them. Everywhere. 50 unsupervised preteens? Hell… it’s hell, I tell you. I have a new found respect for teachers. Bless your poor, patient souls.
Even worse, it cost $65 to earn enough tickets for the poop.
I’m not sure who’s worse. The parents who let their rude, loud kids ruin an expensive arcade? Or me, for spending $65 on a fake piece of shit I could buy for $5 at a store?
It’s me. The answer is me.
I love what the internet has become. Mainly because I don’t have to do jack to learn anything new except pull up Google or find a how-to video on YouTube. Lazy people, unite! You can seriously find YouTube videos on doing anything. I’ve watched them for car repairs, yoga sequences, and most recently for some better makeup tips. There are hundreds of them on there. After clicking through a bunch of them, I realized most of these girls are just that — girls. Some 15… some 17. Should I be impressed? Embarrassed? Angry that I suck that much at applying makeup? It was rough.
A 28 year old married woman… getting makeup advice from a 15 year old high school freshman. I’m pretty mortified. Even worse, I tried her tips today and got several compliments… It’s not every day you’re forced to admit a 15 year old is more knowledgeable than you at something. For shame.
Time to go back to the rock I’ve been living under.
You know you have an atypical marriage when silly conversations like this are normal:
Me: If you ever cheated on me I’d probably kill you.
Alex: I’d never do that, so…………….
Me: Well… I was just trying to be the bigger person and give you a heads up.
Alex: If you cheated on me I’d rip your boobs off and make them into a pillow.
Me: ……… you’ve gone way too far, psycho.
Alex: At least I’m letting you live.
Me: Uhh… thanks, I guess?
Today I was sitting in the backyard on the hammock talking to my mom on the phone. Here I am, swinging and minding my own business and out of nowhere this huge deer appears on the edge of the yard where it meets the woods. I know it seems totally ridiculous to be afraid of deer, but damn — their beady eyes and large stature freak me the hell out. Not to mention their no-fear attitude when it comes to cars hitting them. This deer had to go, so I hung up the phone and started walking slowly towards it to scare it away. It didn’t move. So I made a loud noise. Didn’t move. I got desperate and started screaming while flapping my arms and running towards it. Instead of running away it took a step towards me.
Deer are supposed to run away. So why wasn’t this one? Was it plotting something? Did it have rabies? The plague? Was it going to attack me? Bite me? Had the zombie apocalypse started? Was it trying to tell me something? I got so spooked by my thoughts –I– ended up being the one sprinting away screaming bloody murder while the deer remained there staring.
Fine deer, you win this time. You’re just lucky I wasn’t in a car.