The War of the Bs

It's on!  On like Donkey Kong!   

The war of the Bs, baby!

I am pissed at Mr. OCD at this moment.  In fact from this point forward, I will refer to him as The Jackass.  Because he is one.  A self-centered jackass to be more specific. 

He is apparently blinded by his pathetic ego.  Lucky for him, I'm a peaceful person otherwise he might be blinded by a freakin' fork.  A fork dipped in Sulfuric acid.  Let me explain before you report me to the authorities.  Trust me, my thoughts are justified.

My daughter is five and in preschool.  In actuality, she goes to two preschools.  Half of the day is spent at a public preschool and the other half is spent at her daycare/preschool.  The daycare where she's been a student since she was an infant.  The daycare where she's spent most of her little life.  The daycare that she will be leaving behind when she starts Kindergarten in the fall.  The daycare that will be holding graduation ceremonies on May 6th.

It's a Friday night.  Unfortunately, it is also the same night as one of my son's t-ball games.  One of probably 20.  And it's t-ball, for Christ's sake.  Not the majors.

Do you know what The Jackass had the audacity to say to me this afternoon???  "Well, E and I will not be at the graduation.  We've got a game."

Aw, hell.  My blood's starting to boil all over again just thinking about it.

Are you freakin' kidding me?  Your daughter is graduating from preschool!  YOUR. DAUGHTER.  You didn't miss his graduation.  You have five other coaches on that team.  I am positive that they can make it one game without the two of you.

"I'm not missing that game," was his response. 

I wanted to hit him with a freakin' baseball bat at that point.  The light bulb came on, and everything became perfectly clear.  This had nothing to do with his responsibility to a team of COMPLETE. freakin'. strangers. who are not his own children.  Hell, no!  It is all about his freakin' ego.  It's all about THAT particular game.  Yes, on that night his little t-ball team will be playing the toughest competitor in the league.  THAT game is sure to be a big one.

He makes me sick, and I'm pulling out the big guns.  Mark my word.  So help me God, if he doesn't go to our daughter's graduation he will not get any for the entire summer!  Our poor baby girl is far more important than some he-man, chest-puffing, fist-pumping ego trip for 40 year old men trying to live vicariously through their damn 6 year old sons.

In 20 years, no one will remember whether or not he was at that effn' ballgame.  No one!  Because it's not freakin' important to the health and well-being of his family!  However, unless he wants his daughter to feel as though she is not worthy of his attention his ass better be at that graduation.

I'll let you know how it turns out...  Until then, The Jackass is on my shit list. 

He's Turning Into One of "Those" Men

I know it's the same pic, but it's so good...and so apropos!

Remember my post about the Derek Jeter-pimping dads?  Where the dads were "training" their five year olds for the World Series?  I knew that shit observation would eventually bite me in the butt.

This morning, my dear husband decided that we must skip church.  He had far more important things to take care of today.  Being the slacker I am, I figured what the heck?  It's not like my kids are going to leave me alone long enough to worship anyway.  The only real conversations I can have with God lately are at 8:30 p.m. when I'm praying that G will finally fall asleep.  (We have a strict 7:30 p.m. bedtime that's gone to hell in a hand basket since ball season started.)

So we played hookie this morning.  To go to Sports Authority.  For a big sale on ball equipment.  Some freakin' sale it turned out to be...

My husband spent nearly $400 on "gear!"  He bought both kids new bats that were, by the way, still more expensive than the ones they already have -- even at 50% off!  Then he started eyeballing this batting contraption.  It was a hundred dollars.  Of course, after closer inspection, he decided he didn't need it.  Instead, he HAD to have the one that was two hundred freakin' dollars!!!  For $200, he better start batting like freakin' Alex Rodriguez on steroids! 

That wasn't the end of it, though.  Oh no!  "Come on, woman!  He can't hit like A-Rod if only catches like Helen Keller!"  He picked up this net-thingamajig that actually looked very cool if it weren't so damn expensive.  Apparently, the kids throw the ball into this jewel-encrusted net and the net bounces it back to them.  It is supposed to help them with fielding the ball.  Like I said, by the time we walked out of the store he'd spent about $400 on shit gear! 

Don't get me wrong; if my child had been playing ball for several years and was really into it, I could probably stomach spending about HALF of that money.  Or if I had Oprah money...  Hell, if I had Oprah money this blog wouldn't even be necessary.  But if we had money to burn...NOPE.  I still can't rationalize it. 

It kinda gives me a different perspective on the testosterone-lined third base fence, though.  Those dads have probably already put out that kind of money and more on their kids' baseball paraphenalia.  They can't afford any other form of entertainment.  They can't even pay the light bill because Baby Boy needed a new pair of motorized, glow-in-the-dark, gortex lined batting gloves! 

Jimmy Pete can't afford the house note, but Baby Boy is signed up for Derek Jeter's baseball camp!  We've moved into this double-wide to promote my husband's obsession son's career as a professional baseball player.  Yes, we've spent a bunch of money on this sport, but it's an investment into his future.  Eventually, he will get a huge check on signing day, earn the league minimum his first year, then start making the big bucks to support our entire family for the rest of his life!!!  Yes, and we'll send $2,498 of it in order to collect all that money we won in the Nigerian lottery.  We'll be rich, LaWanda Jo!  Rich, I tell ya!

If he starts dipping into my swimming pool fund, we're gonna fight!