Jill was out all morning so she grabbed McDonalds for lunch. She bought Cannon a Happy Meal as is her custom. They asked her if she wanted a Wizard of Oz or Lego Happy Meal. She of course chose Lego (last week Cannon got the helicopter). Now anytime Jill gets fast food, she always, always carefully checks the order. This time was no exception, except she did not check the toy.
She brought home this: They might as well have put Chucky in the box. The thing closes its eyes when you lay it down and opens them when you pick it up. I stayed awake until midnight tonight tutoring, but I am honestly a little scared to go to sleep with this thing in the house. A few minutes ago, one of our smoke detectors went off for just a few seconds. I checked everything in the house and replaced the battery. It didn't occur to me until just now, that this thing was probably somehow responsible.
Saturday, I attended my last Royals game of the season with my very good friend Rhett (no it's not a pseudonym and no his parents aren't from Georgia). We had a great time catching up and watching the best game I saw all season. (3 double plays, 3 Royals home runs including an inside the park sprint by De Jesus that I only saw on replay) The event was only marred by a horrible smell in our section.
Around the second or third inning I started to smell the pungent and distinctive odor of fish in the bleachers. Immediately, I glanced around to try and decide where the smell was coming from. Seeing nothing, I asked Rhett if he smelled that. His face answered the question for me. I started making comments like, "What kind of moron would bring in fish? I know they don't sell that here." Rhett joined in and we continued to discuss the disgustingness of the smell. Finally, around the 5th inning we decided to get away from our seats and find Gates for some terrific barbecue. By they way if you haven't had Gates at the K, I strongly recommend it. It's expensive, even slightly more so than eating at the restaurant, but so very worth it.
As we got about halfway up the stairs (we were in the second row behind the right field wall) Rhett turns excitedly around and says, "See that guy behind where you were sitting? He was eating a can of sardines. And he threw the trash under your chair."
I was incredulous. I could not believe that anyone was capable of this in a society. I mean doesn't this guy interact with people on a daily basis. It is really the equivalent of vomiting in the middle of the stands, then sitting back down and pretending that everyone does it.
Once we were back at our seats I couldn't restrain myself. We continued to discuss the idiocy and rudeness of someone subjecting the crowd to those noxious odors. The man had chucked animal parts (the tiny fish bones were under my chair) into the public vicinity. I think we shamed him into leaving but he left his trash. I might have let it go, but I bit into a french fry as the wind shifted, and got the taste of rancid ocean water on my tongue.
You may think I'm overreacting, and you may be right. But be careful what you say. There is no proof that Aaron is writing this blog. The monkey may have just taken over his computer.