It is not quite eight and I feel like a shell of a man. We went to three birthday parties. I have played several games of Lazer Tag, danced around like a mad man and been assaulted at Chuck E. Cheese.
Everywhere I turn I see flashing lights and hear beeps, whistles, honks and screams. Of course if you are from cleveland this is just like a normal day, but for those of us who aren't cursed it is a bit trying.
In general I don't mind the occasional trip to go visit Mr. Charles Cheese, but there is one aspect that I never get used to. I hate turning in the prize tickets. It makes me insane trying to figure out the best way to use those stupid equivalent to one cent tickets. Or should I say that it drives me crazy trying to help convince the children that the stupid rubber snake, pencil, candy and or ball is worthless.
I always consider taking them to Target. The idea is that I'll offer to give them ten dollars that they can use to buy a toy that will last longer than two minutes.
Part of me tries to convince myself that redeeming tickets is an exercise with educational value. Give me five minutes and I'll give you the whole lecture on supply and demand, value of money etc.
But then again we could spend that time doing something far more exciting, like talking about The Lakers defeating the hated celtics...again.
Now I do have to admit that Lazer Tag was a hell of a good time. I never get tired of that. Inside the ring I have no mercy. Men, women, children, dogs, cats, it doesn't matter- you will go down. Of course I should add that the children have a huge size advantage over me. I am a much bigger target than they are. In fact, the kids took me out a half dozen times, which gave me ample opportunity to act out a death scene.
The kids loved watching me flop around like a fish out of water. It also served as great distraction. Every time I finished flopping I'd make like Jason and come back from the dead. Who knew that resurrecting oneself so that you can wreak havoc could be so much fun.
I highly advise you to try it sometime. And now if you'll excuse me my dinner is calling my name.
"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." — Groucho Marx
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