Six Glags Over. . . Death . . .

Little Joey, in his newly won Superman cape, thought that if he took off as fast as he could, he would take flight just as Superman would, because apparently, its all in the cape. And for about 10 feet, he built his momentum so much that his mousy brown hair blew back and lifted his tiny little arms, prepared to take off into the atmosphere. But he put his head down, and this mistake almost proved fatal as Joey bounded directly into the belly of a woman approximately eight times his size. She let out a guttural "oomph" and placed her hands on his shoulders, spinning him around and shoving him back in the direction from which he came. Embarassed and very, very angry that his cape appeared to be a dud, he walked back over to his mother and his twin, who was donned in a more sensible Batman cape, red faced and looking for blood. Having witnesses this entire exchange from afar, I attemtped to smile at Little Joey as we walked past, but he was more interested in removing that smug look on his brother's face, ignoring his mother's taunts of, "You didn't really think you could FLY, did you?"

For my son's 10th birthday (that's right. I said TEN) we went to Six Flags Great America. For the record, I fucking HATE amusement parks. ALL of them. As an albatross around the neck of fun, I find amusement parks to be offensive systems designed to prey upon the basic human need to be entertained by presenting such humans with contraptions that can, if inappropriately used, kill your dumb ass dead. One loose screw and that is all she wrote, which is why I choose life over three minutes of feeling like I am going to die, which I would only experience after waiting TWO FUCKING HOURS in a never ending maze of metal bars and pre-teen white girls. . . Shoot me in my head, please and thank you.

Did I mention it was hot? Hot and crowded and just chocked full of teenagers. The only thing I hate worse than teenagers is female circumcision. That's right, I said it. If someone said "Be a teenager again or else we'll cut off your labia with a rusty tin can, then sew up your vagina with used dental floss," I would think to myself "Who needs labia ANYWAY?" Fat ones, skinny ones, ones whose shorts were too short, ones whose pants were too big, some matching, some dressed like they didn't have parents. So we had to wade through these musty children in heat through glaring sunlight and humidity to look at other people pretend as if being swung around in a circle at 75mph is one of life's greatest pleasures. . . Clearly, they need to get out more often .

So i brought my partner albatross in crime, BFF Danielle, with me so that I would have someone to complain to as I hold purses and bookbags of the people who choose to risk their lives on these precarious contraptions. Danielle doesn't even get on escalators if she can avoid it so I knew i would have some company as I take advantage of the BEST thing these hell holes have to offer: Carnival food. Turkey legs, corn on the cob, funnel cake, slushies, italian ice, funnel cake, and one more funnel cake. And then we played Dance Dance Revolution. I have never played it before and I can only come to one conclusion:

This is THEE best game EVER MADE. . .

This is the kind of game my fat ass needs to keep the weight off. I havent seen the home version but I can imagine it sucks because you really need to whole contraption to get the real effect. So Danielle and I looked like Oaktown 357 on crack, doing these poorly coordinated dance moves to really really bad Japanese house music. We also played House of the Dead, and if you are ever in a house that has been over run by the living dead, Danielle is who you want to have with you. Not only is she a damn good shot, but you can offer her as a sacrificial distraction so you can run away. . .

Really. Its the most fun I could muster. . .

BUT my son had a great time, and that's all that really matters. . . We make sacrifices for our children . . .