These Balls Smell Like Beef Jerky!

Posted: June 8, 2009 in kids, parenting


Have I mentioned that I HATE people?

Really.

I really, really do.

This fact came into blazing clarity the other night as my family attended our weekly “Adult/Child Bowling League.”

We’ve been doing this for a while as a family on Wednesday nights.

I bowl with my son while my wife bowls with my daughter.

This translates to:

“I get to see how slowly a bowling ball can roll before it actually starts moving BACKWARDS

…while my wife finds out that you really CAN sing songs from High School Musical and dance ballet really ANYWHERE.”


Why do we do this?

1) The family spends time together.
2) It empties $32 out of my wallet every week.
3) I get to spend the time listening to the local trailer-trash yell at their bastard children.

Hm.

Great.

Now I’m asking myself why we do it.

Of course, the first fifteen minutes of bowling are spent weeding out all the pedophiles and shit who showed up after only seeing the words “adult,” “child,” and “balls” on the flyer.

Assholes.

I WANT TO START BOWLING, ALREADY!!

Me: “Dad…what are you doing here?”

The other night, I was paired next to FWTDB.

FWTDB = (fat, white-trash disgusting bitch)

To say that this woman looked like a walking colostomy bag would be to heap vast amounts of praise on her.

400 pounds of acne-riddled, slick-haired, Jerry-Springer-watching trash.

Ugh.

How do I know that she was white trash?

Let’s go over the finer points:

1) She appears like she hasn’t washed her hair in weeks.

I believe, at one point, I saw a chipmunk poke it’s head out.


2) She was wearing a “Mark Martin” NASCAR shirt.

Now, there’s a fine line here that needs to be drawn.

A woman who wears a “Jeff Gordon” shirt may be wearing it because Jeff Gordon is cute (I would bang Jeff Gordon).

However, Mark Martin bears a remarkable resemblance to my right nut.

Additionally, he’s not a household name and doesn’t have cardboard stand-ups of him peddling chicken pot-pies in my supermarket.

This means that she’s a true fan of WATCHING PEOPLE DRIVE CARS.

Personally, I would rather eat the fucking chipmunk in her hair then to watch people drive.

I do enough of that shit on my commute every day.


3) She brings “Grandma” to bowling.

This also, in and of itself, does not brand her as “white trash.”

However, what DOES clue me in to the fact that this woman may live in a single-wide is this fact:

GRANDMA HAS HIPPIE HAIR.

Now, my grandmothers both went to the hairdresser.

They cared how they looked. Even if it meant that they looked OLD.

White trash granny?

No hairdresser.

Grandma has been letting her gray hair grow straight…

…down to the length of her waist…

…and is wearing it with a nice part right down the middle.

Mmmmm….

SEXY.

She was also wearing a “Coors” windbreaker.

And, apparently, she shares the same hair-washing schedule as her daughter.


Now…

Amidst all of this greasy display of trashitude is her son.

Her son is running rampant around the bowling alley – more specifically in and out of my fucking bowling lane.

All the time he’s doing this, he’s making shooting/explosion sounds:

“PSSSHHHH!!! PFPFFFFTTT!!”

In between this lovely cacophony, he stops to cough without covering his mouth:

“CAAACKK!! CAARRCKK!”

Great.

Me (pointing up): “Look, son! An actual hepatitis germ!”

Awesome.

I’m never. Bowling. Again.


Her son (I’ll call him “Fuckwad Dipshit”) is the same age as my son.

This means, that they’re now best friends.

As such, they’re sitting together at the scoring table, playing.

For some reason, Fuckwad Dipshit is making explosion sounds, even though they’re playing with little plastic seahorses.

Dipshit: “PPSHSHSH!! CAAAACKK!! PFFFFTTSS!!”

Seriously, kid.

They’re FUCKING SEAHORSES.

What the fuck is this kid doing?

I look down.

The entire scoring table is COVERED IN FUCKWAD DIPSHIT’S SPIT.

Awesome.


My son then does a little “Pfffsshshtt!” explosion sound…

…at which point I say:

Me: “Cam, try no to do that. YOU’RE GETTING SPIT ALL OVER THE TABLE.”

*hint*

*hint*, mama fatass, *hint*

FWTDB continues to bowl.

She says nothing to Fuckwad Dipshit.

Nothing about Fuckwad Dipshit’s coughing and lack of mouth-covering.

Nothing about him slathering my bowling lane, and also my son, in a thick layer of double-wide saliva.

Nothing.


At one point, my wife came over.

Me: “Don’t be surprised if Cam wakes up with Ebola tomorrow.”

Wife: “Why?

Me (loudly): “This kid is spitting and coughing all over the place. It’s disgusting.”

FWTB hears this (my point)…

…and she and I make eye contact.

She could, in all honesty, kill me with one swing of her arm flab.

But she doesn’t.

She tells her kid to stop. Finally.

She doesn’t kill me.

NO…I think she’s saving THAT for our appearance on Jerry Springer.

I hope she brings Grandma.

I got a thing for old broads with ponytails.

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