Freaks and geeks

Yesterday I went to the Cardinals game with dad. Now it wouldn't be a trip to the ballpark without getting stuck in the middle of annoying freaks. Behind us was a 50-year old man who kept discussing baseball movies. Now mind you I love Field of Dreams, Pride of the Yankees, and The Natural just like anybody else. My quibble is when someone starts quoting lines from The Sandlot 3, The Benchwarmers, and Mr. 3000. Some pieces of dialogue should never have been written, nonetheless repeated. My day would have been just fine without having to hear the man in the next row recite the following line from Summer Catch: "I'm pretty sure I just poo pooed in my panties." He then went on to talk about a movie he had just rented the other night. In fact, he actually called Miss Congeniality 2 one of the funniest movies he's seen in a long time. Let me be frank: I laughed more during surgery as my hemorrhoids were being cut out with a meat cleaver.

To the left of us was an annoying girl who did not shut up the entire first four innings. She talked through the national anthem, the starting lineups, the guess the attendance question, and even the game where you have to figure out under which cap the ball is hidden. She told a charming story about how she was driving home late one night when a man on a bike darted in front of her. The man's bike went flying and she jumped out of her car to assess the damage. However, she wasn't worried about the man so much as she was concerned about her car. As she retold the story, the girl said "There was blood all over his head and I didn't even care if I got AIDS. I just wanted to get it off my car." It's not very often that you get the opportunity to meet the Angelina Jolie of St. Louis. Later on she began boasting about how many hip clubs in town she's visited. Correct me if I'm wrong but St. Louis isn't exactly known for being a trendy hangout. I mean I've never seen Ryan Seacrest report on Lindsay Lohan driving drunk into the Mississippi River. The girl even took it a step further to say that her friends view her as something of a celebrity now because she's partied with so many celebrities. I just wanted to shake her and tell her that that doesn't really classify you as a celebrity. Now the day I see her in the pages of Us Weekly checking into rehab with no panties on then I might reconsider. My ears perked up in anticipation as she spoke, ready to hear untold stories of debauchery alongside of some of Hollywood's biggest names. Her "celebrity" friends included Jesse McCartney, Derrick from Road Rules, and some guy name Brian Glazer. Now even I didn't recognize that name so I looked it up on IMDB and this guy's only claim to fame is that he appeared on the second season of Average Joe. I'd classify Ella as a bigger celebrity.

Pictures with a prostitute

This weekend we went out to dinner for our anniversary with Seth and Traci who were also celebrating their anniversary. After eating we took pictures outside but wanted to get one of the four of us together. There were a few people around us to ask but Traci thought they might just run off with the cameras (think Sandra Bullock in Crash). Just then two people walking hand in hand came toward us and I quickly asked if one of them would take a photo. He was a balding white man and she was a hooched out black woman. As I started to hand the camera to her she pointed to him and said "He real good." Praying that she was talking about his photography skills and not his sexual prowess, I handed over the camera. As we were getting into position for the photo shoot I couldn't help but size up this odd couple. He was wearing tight Rustler jeans, while she was thisclose to letting a nipple pop out. She reminded me of that prostitute that goes to the dinner party with Borat. As they strolled away Traci encouraged me to get a picture of the pair for this very blog.

Our daughter the hoochie

Let me just come right out with it. So recently Ella discovered that she has private parts and now she has become fascinated with them at every diaper change. Last night as I was drying her off after her bath I gave her the old stranger danger talk. I said that no one should be touching her down there. It's her special, private area. Only mommy or daddy or a grandparent should be wiping her off to change a diaper or drying her off after a bath. So after the big talk we reviewed like any good teacher does. "So who can touch you down there?," waiting for the list of relatives to be ticked off. Instead her response was simply "Boys!" As you can see, Rach and I certainly have our work cut out for us.

Shopping for a serial killer

On my way to summer school this morning I passed a pawn shop. A sign outside the building advertised gift ideas for Father's Day. It read...

Gifts For Dad Found Here
DVD's
Tools
Guns

Unless your dad is a serial killer in the market for a murder weapon you might want to look elsewhere for a present for dear old dad.

Bilingual

Tonight at Wal-Mart there was a woman in front of me in the checkout line with a cartful of four children. She was wearing a white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off of both sides. On one arm she had a tattoo of a large breasted woman with heavy eyeshadow and long dark hair that ran the length of her entire arm. On the other arm she had what looked like an alien playing drums with long droopy fingers and blood dripping from the mutant's teeth. Across the top of her shoulder was scrawled "Livin' La Vida Roca," which if I'm not mistaken translates to "Livin' the skanky life."

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

Well school is out once again and it's time for one of my favorite times of the year, the summer concert season. Yesterday Rach and I headed up to Tinley Park to catch Gwen Stefani's Sweet Escape Tour. We stopped at Cracker Barrel for a quick bite to eat before the show. As our meal was coming out the waitress dropped my side of ranch dressing and it shattered all over the floor. In fact, one of the shards of the porcelain bowl actually cut Rachel. It wasn't bad or anything but they gave us free dessert. I tried to get her to push it in a little bit more to really make it bleed because I thought maybe we could get our whole meal for free. No luck.

So we arrived at the amphitheatre with our $10 lawn tickets in hand and enough snacks to keep a diabetic going for weeks. Just inside the gate we noticed two workers hawking upgraded seats for $10. I went to check it out and found out that we were able to trade in our tickets for seats down in the first section of the venue about 15 rows from the stage. We ponied up the $20, said farewell to our pot-smoking brethren in the grass, and headed down to our seats. How is it that we always manage to sit behind the most annoying people in the place? In front of us sat six high schoolers whom we were able to psychoanalyze by the end of the night. There was the flamboyant gay boy, the straight guy who will on a dare go ask another guy for his number in order to win $20, the snooty girl whose crap literally smells of lillies, a solemn young lady secretly battling depression who popped a Zoloft in the restroom, an annoying girl who tries to run with the cool kids but will never be up their level, and a ponytail-wearing tomboy who is just inches away from shunning boys forever.

The show kicked off with some girl named Lady Sovereign. She's like this British hip hop chick whose MySpace page calls herself the biggest midget in the game. Um, I guess that's good right? There were obviously people in the crowd who knew her because they sang along to every expletive-laced ditty. Let's just say she let the F-bomb fly more times in her five-song set than Tony Soprano has in six seasons.

After a short set change Akon strutted out. Before you get too worried he didn't simulate sex on stage with anyone or throw any teenagers out into the crowd. He's making progress. His performance was unlike any I have ever seen. He only sang 90 seconds of each song. It's like he American Idol-ized his set. And before he left he swiped a page from the Marky Mark/Usher play book and ripped off his shirt when relaying a fascinating tale of dating a stripper. It kind of makes you all warm and fuzzy inside.

What can I say about Gwen? I have liked her for some time but I was never really a huge fan until last night. She is an amazing entertainer and really had the audience in the palm of her hand from start to finish. She put on probably the second most elaborate and theatrical show I've ever seen after Janet Jackson (and well, maybe N'Sync in their No Strings Attached heyday. Um yes, I'm sorry. I was there.). Needless to say, that s*it was bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

Set List
The Sweet Escape
Rich Girl
Yummy
4 in the Morning
Luxurious
Early Winter
Wind It Up
Fluorescent
Danger Zone
Hollaback Girl
Now That You Got It
Dont Get It Twisted
Cool
Wonderful Life
Orange County Girl

Encore
The Real Thing
U Started It
What You Waiting For

Wardrobe malfunction

The other night I was at Wal-Mart buying velcro, gummy bears, and popsicles. (I sound like a six-year old who can't tie his shoes.) I was going from one side of the store to the other so I simply took a shortcut through the women's clothing department. As I was coming up to the fitting rooms I noticed that one of the doors was open and I could see some lady's bare back who seemed to be attempting to try on a bathing suit. She then proceeded to turn around and I came face to face with her rather large, saggy breasts. Luckily the naughty parts further down were wedged into a bit-too-tight lavender suit. Needless to say I couldn't bring myself to eat a grape popsicle later that night.