Thoughts On The Weekend While Waiting For Two Assholes To Show Up For Lunch
Did I mention I'm hungry?
On Thursday our Little League officals called us up and told us our son could play fall ball. We told him and he was very excited. Friday morning they called back and said they were sorry but they'd made a mistake and he couldn't play; they had too many kids after all. You can imagine the phone calls that were exchanged at that point. Suffice it to say the president of the league is probably finalizing a restraining order at this point.
I know that we were late with the registration, but if they called us and said "You're in, show up Saturday with a check", and then call back and all they can say is "oops, tell your kid we feel bad", well, homie don't play that.
So naturally when the little tyke begged to help me scrape paint off the house, (which did indeed cause me to question his sanity), I let him help. I watched carefully, saw he had the hang of it, and then left to go to the dump with further instructions to him to stay off the ladder. Which I took down for good measure. So naturally when I came home I found him seated on the kitched table with his mother bandaging a nice little gash on his forehead. Apparently he reinforced some of the lessons I had imparted earlier and managed to stick the business end of the scraper into his forehead. he's healing nicely thank you. Yesterday I was out scraping and painting again and he asked if he could help. I asked if he wanted to grow up without a father, because he would be if his mother saw him with a scraper again before he turned 18.
Later that night I played poker with a few friends of mine. I had won a substantial amount of money at our regular game a couple of nights earlier; suffice it to say that most of it went back that night, which would have put me in a really bad mood, (who am I kidding? I almost threw a chair through a wall), if not for two things. First, the following line was uttered: "You know what movie gets funnier each time I watch it? Schindler's List." I'm not sure if this was original or not, but I did spit beer across the room when I heard it. A later clarification was made to establish that the speaker was really talking about "The 40 Year-Old Virgin". I can see the confusion.
The second thing that made the losing bearable came in this morning's email.
The same guy who took most of my money was kind enough to send the picture along. Almost makes me feel bad about the whole chair incident.
Almost.
On Thursday our Little League officals called us up and told us our son could play fall ball. We told him and he was very excited. Friday morning they called back and said they were sorry but they'd made a mistake and he couldn't play; they had too many kids after all. You can imagine the phone calls that were exchanged at that point. Suffice it to say the president of the league is probably finalizing a restraining order at this point.
I know that we were late with the registration, but if they called us and said "You're in, show up Saturday with a check", and then call back and all they can say is "oops, tell your kid we feel bad", well, homie don't play that.
So naturally when the little tyke begged to help me scrape paint off the house, (which did indeed cause me to question his sanity), I let him help. I watched carefully, saw he had the hang of it, and then left to go to the dump with further instructions to him to stay off the ladder. Which I took down for good measure. So naturally when I came home I found him seated on the kitched table with his mother bandaging a nice little gash on his forehead. Apparently he reinforced some of the lessons I had imparted earlier and managed to stick the business end of the scraper into his forehead. he's healing nicely thank you. Yesterday I was out scraping and painting again and he asked if he could help. I asked if he wanted to grow up without a father, because he would be if his mother saw him with a scraper again before he turned 18.
Later that night I played poker with a few friends of mine. I had won a substantial amount of money at our regular game a couple of nights earlier; suffice it to say that most of it went back that night, which would have put me in a really bad mood, (who am I kidding? I almost threw a chair through a wall), if not for two things. First, the following line was uttered: "You know what movie gets funnier each time I watch it? Schindler's List." I'm not sure if this was original or not, but I did spit beer across the room when I heard it. A later clarification was made to establish that the speaker was really talking about "The 40 Year-Old Virgin". I can see the confusion.
The second thing that made the losing bearable came in this morning's email.
The same guy who took most of my money was kind enough to send the picture along. Almost makes me feel bad about the whole chair incident.
Almost.
posted by limpy99 at 9:32 AM
12 Comments:
Jessica does have one sweet ass.
You are hilarious. I do feel bad about your boy but can tell you said your peace and are moving on.
I spit my coffee out after the "Schindler's List" comment :)
Wow, I can see how the confusion happened!
See, they both have men in them....
They called to say yep, he's in, and then nope, just kidding??! They did WHAT??!?
That's it. I'm blaming the terrorists. They're trying to kill baseball in America, they really are. Well, either the terrorists or the liberals... to Bush their all the same anyway.
*ahem*
I meant, "they're".
*blush*
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Sorry to read about your son and I'll throw my two cents in for the bail, should you decide to violate that restraining order.
Holy shit... look at that ass! I mean...um, she's lovely.
I'm with Maggie. Do what you gotta do, man.
So...can you kid play or not?
No, we went with swimming instead. We'll fight again in the spring.
No, we went with swimming instead. We'll fight again in the spring.
That’s a hell of a way to treat a little tyke—by both the Little League and that damned paint scrapper.
I hate Little League! Those scumbags. Sorry, I don't have any more in-depth comments about LL. I like baseball, of course, but hate it when grown-ups boss kids around in sports. There is a difference between bossing and umpiring. Or do I just not know what the hell I'm talking about? Anyway, I hope your son gets into Little League in the spring, but I still hate them.
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