The past two weeks have flown by... in that time, we've crowned a Top Model and an American Idol, my computer died, I was told to grow a mustache and I visited one of America's finest imported retailers.To catch up on lost blogging (see: died, computer), here's a two-part Weekend Update, starting off with my trip to a nearby amusement park, Hershey Park, that, coincidentally, is not too far from where Jon and Kate Plus 8 Plus 1 Mistress live. I did not see them, although at least if they do visit, they have an even number of kids for the rides. I think it would have been acceptable, if they instead had quintuplets, to go for one more baby to even that out. Or to "forget" one near a hospital entrance. Whatever is easiest.
Weekend Number 1:
- My last visit to Hershey Park about 13 years ago. I have since have become an old man. At least, that's what I infer from the age bracket most of the tweenage park visitors seemed to belong to, a bracket full of "Oh my God you guys!" "He, like, likes me, but I, like, like his friend or whatever" and "I'm not fully aware yet that it's inappropriate for me to show cleavage like this in public, since I only developed cleavage three weeks ago and now I'm jail bait's jail bait."
- Some men determine their manhood through such trials as football, ultimate fighting or wearing loin cloths. I believe I determined mine on the first roller coaster, Fahrenheit, which immediately takes you straight up into the sky. Straight Up.* At one point, I saw Jesus, then determined it couldn't have been Jesus because Jesus, historically speaking, would not have been tall enough to be on the ride... I think I retained my man card on the coaster, as I didn't cry or scream.***
- Capricorn and I rode four roller coasters... but she didn't get scared until she noticed an approaching thunderstorm and was convinced a bolt of lightning amidst the towering steel would strike us all dead. Although that theory only works if you are Wile E. Coyote, we ran for shelter nonetheless as the storm poured on. Next time, I'll skip the admission tickets and just rent "Twister" to give Capricorn the same level of excitement and fear, plus a pre-famous Philip Seymour Hoffman, a pre-Big Love Bill Paxton and a Mad-About-You Helen Hunt. Now that, friends, is the perfect storm.
- Capricorn informed me I'm not allowed to become a carny.
- Why can't public transportation replicate the thrill of a roller coaster? We'd solve this energy crisis and increase light rail use if we could make the rides include loops, powered launches and steep drops.****
- Speaking of which, the visit inspired me to play a computer game for the first time since my Oregon Trail days. And, if you read the ensuing post, you know what happened next with Roller Coaster Tycoon. Epic Computer Fail. Epic Virus Win. At that moment, I hated all roller coasters not named Ben.
- Not an Epic Fail: This photo of Capricorn and I on a wooden roller coaster. Fortunately, I was wearing my adult diaper.
* Now tell me, are you gonna love me forever?**
** Oh Oh Oh.
*** Just kidding. I haven't had a man card since I first walked into Express Men.
**** Also, if there were fewer creepy people who twitch and grin at you with four teeth.
Come back for part II midday...
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