America's Favorite Past-time

this past weekend, i was fortunate enough to attend a baseball game in which my home team played the city i am currently living in. and to make things even better, the seats in which i was able to sit were only 10 rows behind the visiting team's dugout. so, i got to see all of my favorite players up close and personal. and let me tell you, the view was more than nice. it was a great day. my hometeam won, the crowd was into it, the sun was shining, i got some color, had a few beers and had the pleasure of witnessing america's favorite past-time...bad child raising.

sitting directly in front of me, in row 9, was a family of four. a mom. a dad. a daughter. and kyle. that's right, little-i'm-way-too-fcuking-young-to-be-at-this-ballgame-kyle. let's describe each person first, shall we? first, there was mom. pasty-white skin, on the smaller side when it comes to height, average build and obviously does everything her husband tells her. dad was a middle-aged man, thinning hair with a bald spot in the back, medium height, stomach looked like he was the one who carried their two children...at the same time, and insisted on picking both his crotch and ass when he got up from his seat. i have to say that a small part of me finds it admirable for a grown man to have the dignity and balls to pick at his in front of 50,000+ people. the daughter i must say was well mannered and considering the heat of the afternoon complained little. and then there was little kyle.

kyle gets his own paragraph. and how do i know little-i'm-way-too-fcuking-young-to-be-at-this-ballgame-kyle's name you might be wondering. because his mother said it everytime the little tyke did something wrong. first, there was the time that little-i'm-way-too-fcuking-young-to-be-at-this-ballgame-kyle's mom gave him an umbrella to shade himself from the sun and proceeded to call out his name as his repeatedly hit the people in front of him with the points of the umbrella. then, there was the time in which little-i'm-way-too-fcuking-young-to-be-at-this-ballgame-kyle began crying because he felt his daddy was away for too long. soon little-i'm-way-too-fcuking-young-to-be-at-this-ballgame-kyle will grow up and get married himself and realize this is sometimes what you have to do to get away from the ones you love...leave and let them annoy total strangers. but my all time favorite was when little-i'm-way-too-fcuking-young-to-be-at-this-ballgame-kyle's mom called his name as he proclaimed that he was hot and 'was not going to stay here any longer' as he proceeded up the center aisle and to the back. i felt that i was watching 'la cage aux folles' when za za lifts off her wig, revealing she is a man and charges up the center aisle of the club while singing 'i am what i am.' a kiddie production of 'la cage' right before my eyes.

upon the return of little-i'm-way-too-fcuking-young-to-be-at-this-ballgame-kyle's dad, what does he have in his hands? 2 bags of cotton candy. great! let's give little-i'm-way-too-fcuking-young-to-be-at-this-ballgame-kyle a sugar high. never before have i attended a ballgame and encouraged the batters to hit a foul ball at the row in front of me. to my surprise, little-i'm-way-too-fcuking-young-to-be-at-this-ballgame-kyle wolfed down his cotton candy (better watch out. look at daddy. obesity can be genetic) and he crashed quickly from his sugar high. and then left in the 8th inning when their home team still trailed and all hopes of winning seemed dismal.

this, my friends, is a classic example of why i believe that children should be shipped away from the time they say their first words until they are ready to walk down the aisle. i am sure that there is a vacant island somewhere out in the pacific where we could put them all. just never reveal the exact location to michael jackson.