Henry and I took Chooch to Round Hill Park yesterday since the sky took a day off from blanketing us with seasonal depression. We let Janna come too, because sometimes we try to make her feel included. Plus, I knew she’d keep an eye on Chooch so I could take stupid pictures with my Holga. Probably, everyone there thought she was the mother, and that’s OK. Probably embarrassing for Chooch though.
On the way out there, I sat in the back with Chooch (he freaks out if anyone else does) and played Backseat DJ. Then, forgetting that Henry had just adhered one of those lame pull-down sun shades on both backseat windows, I put the window down and the bottom suction cup is now lost inside the car door and the window got stuck in the down position, causing Henry to pull over and manually yank it up and seethe, "Do not touch the window!!!" because now the window is broken. I denied that it was my fault. I’m still denying it. It wasn’t my fault.
Continuing our slow cruise around the winding park roads, I told Henry to pick a sublime pavilion. Leaning forward between the seats, I asked, "Do you know what sublime means, Henry?" and he scoffed to show that I had really insulted him. Passing by well-maintained picnic plots with sparkling swingsets and bright yellow slides, we stopped at a really sad pavilion with splintered picnic tables and a depressed swing set, proving that Henry really doesn’t know what sublime means. We then tried to accomplish one of those picnic things that normal people are wont to do, but we usually fail and wind up eating bitter words and break-up threats instead. Then I made the mistake of complaining that Henry put yucky stuff on my sandwich, so now he claims I’m going to have to start doing everything for myself, but he was just trying to look tough in front of Janna. Chooch threw most of his food over his shoulder, and I flicked the unfavorable portions of my sandwich underneath the table (except for the cookies which Chooch and I were enthusiastic about) and then we proceeded to the petting farm portion of the park.
I don’t know why I get so excited to come here. Maybe I’m secretly hoping that one of the hens will lay a golden egg full of crack cocaine while I’m visiting, or that I’ll get to see a kid get its hand bitten off by a dragon, but it’s always the same thing: bitchy hens, a feral cat, petrified duck shit, stinky hogs, and lots of shitty mothers with organic cookies and condescending sticks up their mom-jeaned asses.
While Janna held my son’s hand and taught him things like, "The sheeps go BAAA" (which is probably good to balance out my serial killer teachings), me and some other kids took pictures with our plastic cameras. Mine will probably be much better than theirs, because kids suck and I rule.
Chooch liked the pigs best, probably because their snorting and grunting reminded him of his oft-slumbering father. They smelled like him too. Janna made sure Chooch bathed in Purell on the way out of the pig pen.
While checking out the cows, I left Henry’s side for a SECOND to take a picture. In that short amount of time, some whorish mother with a nasally voice and ugly kids sidled up next to Henry. Her stupid kid was like, "MOMMY IS THAT COW A BOY OR A GIRL???" and she was all, "Oh I don’t know. It has horns. Do girl cows have horns?" She looked at Henry innocently, crinkling her slutty nose and punctuating her flighty inquiry with sex-glazed giggles.
Henry was all, "Oh my God, a real life broad is talking to me," to himself, and after flexing his muscles and rippling his poorly executed tattoos, he disguised his voice to sound like a real man and said, "Why I don’t know, let’s ask my dickie, he has the answers to everything," and then he pulled out his dick and wagged it around like a limp pinkie and the two of them giggled together like two fucking assholes and I want to murder that dumb douche now (both of them).
Really, Henry said nothing at all because he went into shock at the idea of another woman acknowledging him, and I took that as my cue to attach myself to Henry’s side and shout, "HEY, HOW’S IT GOING WITH THE AIDS?" so that she would fuck off and die. Then after she left I said, "Ew" and quickly took five giant steps away from Henry.
Meanwhile, Chooch — who thought that the other kids there were part of the attraction — kept trying to poke some little girl in the butt and then got all excited because her jacket was pink satin with a glittery Barbie patch on it and the girl’s parents were laughing and I kind of died a little and started whispering things about King Kong, tits, and machine guns in his ear because I might kill myself if he develops a Barbie fetish. And not even because of that whole "Boys should like trucks and blood and shooting and killing!!" bullshit, but because Barbie is really fucking stupid.
Over by the duck pond, some frizzy-haired douche-mom scolded me for letting Chooch come close to touching baked duck poop that was coating one of the benches and it was totally Henry’s fault because when I saw it, I asked, "Is that duck poop?" and Henry sounded very positive when he assured me it was a very sanitary natural bench cushion made of nature’s love and children’s giggles, and then he immersed himself in fiddling with the camera because he thinks he’s a professional photographer or something.
Then I realized that Round Hill is really fucking gay and we left.
i <3 that 1st pic. just fyi.
“Janna made sure Chooch bathed in Purell on the way out of the pig pen.” alright janna!!!
fuck that dumb bitch that flirted with henry!!!!!!!
I know, right? Look at his little butt in that picture!!
I can’t believe that I cared when that slut spoke to him.
also, it looks like there’s a face on the back of his head.
fuck. that was the best thing i’ve read in weeks.
Aw Sarah, thank you!
and that does look like a face on the back of his head. possibly an andy warhol version of marilyn monroe.
Hopefully Jesus will make an appearance so I can sell his head on ebay.
Now, I’m trying to think of a way to get Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” to play in front of Chooch.
“I’m a barbie girl! In a barbie world!”
Oh God, I can totally see him latching on to that song, too! He’s at that age where, when he likes something, he LIKES something. Currently, we have to watch various music videos on YouTube every morning and I want to DIE!
Voted for you, btw!
I could picture Chooch living amongst those sheep. Couldn’t you?
I missed that “exchange” between Henry and the woman about the cows because I was in the bathroom. Why do I always miss the most important stuff because I have to pee?
I know there’s a bunch of stuff I’m missing. i typed this read fast when I got to workie work work workinson.
Thank you for coming with us!
Remember that asshole on the bike on the way home and how I wanted to shove him and bash his face in?
Remember how me and Henry fought in the car and I’m sure you were like, “Oh goodie.”
Oh yeah, thank you for inviting me along! It was good to get to hang out.
Yeah, that douche on the motorcycle was just asking for death. I could picture him flipping over backward into the street (and like Henry said, we’d end up running over him). I wish we could have released you into Sheetz to beat him up!
“Chooch liked the pigs best, probably because their snorting and grunting reminded him of his oft-slumbering father.”
The whole post cracked me up, but especially that line.
And I suppose the mom who felt it necessary to scold you had bad hair and bad jeans.
She did! She was wearing an Americana-print sweatshirt with a mock turtle neck underneath and she was very LAME.
It’s bad enough being told what to do by a complete stranger, but it’s even worse when they’re trying to parent your child. Nothing makes me feel more inadequate. UGH.