Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
We had a birthday party for the youngest Secret yesterday, at the
pumpkin patch. It was outdoors, which we knew was a gamble this time of
year, but figured that unless it was pouring rain everything would be
OK. Well, it didn't rain, but everything wasn't OK....
We rented a "party site" near the playground, which featured
three or four picnic tables and a circle of hay bales surrounding a big
campfire. The flames were already kicking by the time we arrived, and
there was a stack of wood nearby so we could keep 'em going. It was cold
and windy out there, but eight year olds don't notice that sort of
thing, we kept telling ourselves.
Toney set up a table full of snacks, and kids began trickling in. And it
just kept getting colder and colder. The sites on both sides of us were
also occupied, and many of the people out there were sporting full-on
winter coats and scarves. All of us instantly formed a bond via
bitching.
The kids were drawn like magnets to a big mountain of hay bales nearby,
with tunnels inside and ropes hanging from the sides for climbing, etc.
Within minutes every one of them was filthy, their expensive Columbia
and L.L. Bean coats soiled like coal miners' field jackets. Man, we're
going be blamed for this, I whispered to Toney. She said she'd already
beaten me to it. Those yuppie parents are going to want our heads on a
stick, we knew.
The wind was terrible, just blasting the cold right through us. I
stood near the fire as much as I could, and watched the young hooligans
crawling through the muck and leaping off the top of the hay bales,
certain that one would eventually be taken away in an ambulance and we'd
lose our house during the ensuing legal proceedings.
Then an extra-strong wind gust came roaring through and dumped a big
bowl of neon-orange cheese balls into the mud. And for the next ten
minutes I chased them around, trying to wrangle the runaway treats into
a Wal-Mart sack. It was like something off the Lucy Show.
And that's pretty much the way this "party" went. Shit being
spilled and turned over, kids running wild and in every direction,
punctuated by a howling wind straight off the polar ice cap. At one
point we saw dark clouds rolling toward us, and a woman next door
pointed and hollered, "Look at that! Now it's going to rain!! This
is now officially the Worst Party Ever."
But it didn't rain, it snowed. Not for
long, but pretty damn hard. It was almost funny. Almost.
About halfway through the kids got bored with rolling around in filth,
and started throwing stuff into the fire. We told them to knock it off,
but they continued doing it behind our backs. I turned around once and
caught a boy dropping a huge armload, bigger than his own torso, of
loose hay into the flames. It ignited and immediately went airborne,
causing flying fire to go sailing in the general direction of the
children's playground. Crap! We received a stern talking-to about that,
from a staff member.
One goofy little kid got all intoxicated with burning shit up, like
something I'd never seen. He had a look in his eyes of pure undiluted
love. He threw paper plates in there, candy, a cup full of Mountain Dew,
and finally asked Toney if he could take off his jacket and stuff it in
as well. I'm not joking. We told him to go crawl around in the horse
manure with the other maniacs and leave the campfire to the adults.
But I'm fairly certain that kid isn't finished with fire. Not by a
long-shot. I believe we provided the key that unlocked a pyromaniac for
the next generation. Yet another sign of a successful children's party!
Near the end Toney rounded everyone up, and they sang "Happy
Birthday" to the Secret. Our shivering boy opened his presents (a
Target gift certificate got loose in the wind and was headed for a stand
of pine trees, but somebody dove on it and provided the save), and had
cake. The cake was decorated in a Halloween theme, with loads of black
and orange icing. The black was like India ink, and before it was over
every one of those kids looked like dirty-as-fuck miniature Marilyn
Mansons, their lips black and glistening and quite evil-looking.
"You can give them back to their parents," I told Toney,
"I'll just stay here and clean up."
After everyone left, the oldest Secret and his friend wanted me to go into
the corn maze with them, and I told them to forget it. They started in
with the "pleeeeeeeaze?" and I made it clear that it
wasn't going to happen, there wasn't even a sliver of a chance, so they
could just drop their campaign. Last time it only took us 38 minutes to
go through that thing, but we got lucky. Toney talked to a woman last
week who said her husband and sons recently got stuck inside the corn
maze for almost three hours, and the guy finally freaked-out and
thrashed through the walls to escape. Heh. I was in no mood for
wall-thrashing, so both shuffled away acting all dejected, with their
arms straight down like they were carrying luggage.
As we were leaving I was walking across the parking lot and another gust
of wind came ripping through. It felt like somebody walked up to me and
flung a handful of dirt in my face. Both of my contact lenses were
positively breaded with a fine sand, and tears were streaming
down my face. I had trouble seeing to drive, and came upon a Road Closed
sign, further extending my trip home to warmth and sweet sweet saline
solution. I may have said a few bad words as I drove.
This morning? Yes, the youngest Secret is home sick, with a 101 degree
temperature and a complexion that would make Perry Farrell look
healthy. He's under a blanket right now, just staring straight ahead. He
has a doctor's appointment at 10:45.
And we'd told ourselves that everything would be OK if it didn't rain.
Good stuff.
You guys have a great day, and I'll see ya tomorrow.
--
We had a birthday party for the youngest Secret yesterday, at the
pumpkin patch. It was outdoors, which we knew was a gamble this time of
year, but figured that unless it was pouring rain everything would be
OK. Well, it didn't rain, but everything wasn't OK....