The Week In Review

My wife and I took the kids to the mall today. When it’s 111 degrees out and your kids are getting stir-crazy, the mall is a great place to go because it’s air conditioned, it gives your kids plenty of room to run around in (and head-butt other mall patrons in the crotch), and they have a play area where you can sit down and read for an hour or so in relative solitude. At least you can until a little deaf kid sits down next to you and starts telling you something.

I was wrapping up a chapter when I felt a tap on my arm. A red-headed little boy, about three years old, I’m guessing, tapped on my arm and then pointed to a row of coin operated “rides”. I put that word in quotes because those fucking things aren’t rides at all. The move about a half an inch up and down, and for this they expect you to feed six quarters in there. Bullshit. Anyway, the kid points to the row of “rides” and grunts.

Kid: (points, grunts)

Me: Yeah, hey, those look like fun, right?

Kid: (shakes head, points, grunts louder)

Me: Oh, is that one a helicopter? Helicopters are cool, aren’t they?

At this point I began looking around because the protocol is that when your child starts addressing another adult, you try to make eye contact with that adult and then smile and make some vague hand gesture designed to say, “Yes, I am a competent parent and am certainly not dropping off my child in this play area so I can go have a few cold ones. Ha ha!” But no one was looking in my direction, and so the one sided conversation continued.

Kid: (shakes head, points, makes a driving motion)

Me: Oh, the car! You want to drive the car!

Kid: (smiles, nods excitedly, gives me a questioning look)

Me: You want me to give you permission to go over there?

Kid: (nods excitedly)

Me: I think you need to go ask your mommy or daddy

At this point the kid looked at me as if I had just shit in his lunchbox. I take it that mommy and/or daddy were not down with him leaving the play area to hop on a “ride” that would cause him to almost immediately ask for $1.50 in quarters. Meanwhile, AWOL parent had still not picked up on the fact that their kid was trying to execute a Stranger End-Around.

Ehhh, I'm sure he'll be just fine.

Ehhh, I'm sure he'll be just fine.

Kid: (pantomimes putting on shoes)

Me: Well, you’d need to put your shoes back on to go out there, but that’s not the problem…

And of course the kid runs off and gets his shoes, slips them on and stands next to the exit of the play area looking at me as if to say, “C’mon, just say yes. One little word. Y-E-S. C’mon.” I’m shaking my head “N-O” and wondering where the fuck this kid’s parent is. Finally, the kid gave up, hung his head in defeat and shuffled back to his dad who was busy flirting with some other kid’s mom. Here’s a hint for you, pal. If you want to hit on and impress a mom, maybe keep an eye on your own kid every once in a while. Moms like that kind of baseline level of parental responsibility. What they don’t like is when you let your little deaf kid run around unsupervised and grunting with strangers, especially given the fact that he’s incapable of yelling for help if the stranger in question decides to make off with him. They’re funny that way.

I missed the week in review last week because I write it on Sunday evening, and since Monday was a holiday, I was too busy performing experiments with beer. Experiments such as, “How many can I drink?”, “Can I have just one more?”, and “What happens if I add a couple of Gin & Tonics to the mix?” So here’s what you missed the last two weeks while you were busy pretending to be in The Miracle Worker:

We’ve got bills to pay. Unfortunately, we have no money. So in a sad, pathetic attempt to fool ourselves into thinking we’ve hit the big time, we invent sponsors. It’s Involuntary Advertising, this week brought to you by Summer’s Eve.

On to our poll of the moment, which has just closed, and the calls for a recount are already starting to be heard.

[poll id=”15″]

As you can see, this contest was extremely close, with only one vote separating the winner from fourth place. Personally, I disagree with the winner being Bob Barker. He was knee deep in Barker’s Beauties (and did you notice that I wrote “knee deep” instead of “elbow deep”? This is because I’m classy.) and I don’t think he had the need to get into the whole scat scene.

Richard Dawson (who died yesterday at the age of 79, incidentally) didn’t strike me as the type to do anything that might soil his suit. Wink Martindale? He looks like a stone cold freak. I would bet any amount of money that his internet history includes the term “2 girls 1 cup” for any given week of the year. And Gene Rayburn? They did a lot of drinking on the set of Match Game. You telling me that when Brett Somers asked him to accompany her to her dressing room, oh, and bring a tarp, that he declined? No way.

What really shocked me was the fact that Dick Clark got no votes. Dick Clark was so square that his barber used a spirit level to cut his hair. That’s exactly the kind of dude that takes a date home and surprises her with an odd request, such as to jam his nuts into a meat grinder. It’s always the same. The wild and crazy guys like vanilla sex, and the conservative, button down types only get freaky in the sack. It’s why Bill Clinton had sex with chubby girls, but Ronald Reagan once asked Margaret Thatcher to take a Waring Blender to his asshole.

And with that pleasant image, I will let you go. Enjoy the new week everyone.