We wont touch on why I haven't blogged, besides the fact that I was abducted by Mongolian skunks and sold to a worm trader in East L.A. True story.
Oldielocks games take up our evenings a lot of the time. I've been dying to do a WTF Wednesday, but I'm changing it up. It's Thursday and we are gonna WTF it.
At these games, you have 6-9 year old girls playing softball. Not one of them is headed for MLB any time soon, but some of the parents, oh my sweet jalapeno jelly, they think they are.
There's this dad who is nothing but a walking WTF. He looks like this guy, from Project Runway.
But bigger, with his ipod constantly in his ears, and girly hat on head. He is loud, and likes to crouch behind the catchers fence when his daughter pitches. When I said crouch, I meant plop his knee down, and then his waistband has some form of elastic malfunction and pretty soon the Grand Canyon in all it's crevice glory is staring at you and you turn away before you get the stink eye creepin out. It's bad. He's about 275 by the way. Which in turn provides a lot of landscape. it doesn't matter that a bazillion people are directly behind him, and after a while your brain takes over and blocks the image from memory. Or at least I wish.
he draws so much attention to himself, between the moon baring squat and the shouting. he calls his whole family when she throws strikes. every time. I kid u not. And this is nothing compared to the first game.
The first game, we are sitting on the hillside. My children, myself. All is quiet except for sweat drippin off the pitcher and chants from the catcher. I am snuggled in my chair, when they earth shook. Well, it sounded like it was shaking. The loudest " BRRRRFFFTHHHTPPP" from behind me, and then to keen sense of hearing, a release of sound. "Ahhhh."
WTF? Did someone just rip ass and then sigh? Straight out of the movies, dirty dirty farting and sighing. And it happened again. My jaw was dropped in disbelief, but closed quickly in case any fart vapors wanted to waft my way. I turned my head slightly, to be sly, but I was really really interested in who the foul farter was. I needed to know names and location to stay far far away in the future.
Ol Project Runway, fartin, crack baring dad is sitting on the hill. But it doesn't end there. The most horrific part of all is he was sitting with his legs up, like whoo hoo hee labor, heads coming position. No way. No nasty way. He then does it again. You know,brings the legs back, gives birth to a 6lb, 7 ounce disgusting fart. Complete with afterbirth. I'm surprised he didn't ask anyone to hold a lighter and see if they would ignite. And all I can think is that is some one's dad. Which means someone, somewhere finds that... attractive. I might puke.
Softball season is almost over. And so is my sense of all that is right in the world.