Sometimes you need to make your own fun with what you find, right? Busting ice off of the horses' water buckets can be...uh...well, it's something, I suppose, I don't really know what, but it's something. *clears throat* Anyway... The Daughters thought they'd approach the task differently this time.
This is the official "happy, happy, look we're so happy, don't you feel happy, too?" shot that you post for Facebook. (In their defense they really were that happy with their find.)
This is the basic "we take our art so very seriously but you wouldn't really understand" hipster shot.
And this is the "help, we're frozen in time from the last Ice Age and we never want to grow up" shot.
Have a good weekend with whatever you have on hand. Carry on.
The ground rules have been updated and revised since the last time you were on a trampoline. Please read the following statements below before accepting these Terms of Service. By accepting these terms, you are agreeing to be bound by these terms.
Make sure you pay your ginormous health insurance premium on your way to The Bounce House. There is a casualty (usually of the ankle variety) here every session, every hour.
(i) Don’t have health insurance? Turn around now.
(ii) Bad knees? Turn around now.
(iii) Actually, bad anything? Turn around now.
You know that 20 oz. of caffeinated sustenance you use every morning to pry your eye lids open? Get rid of it. After having two babies it will not stay where it’s supposed to once you get started. Now would be a great time to practice those Kegel exercises you keep forgetting to do. And remember, they’re not just for women either. Just sayin’…
As an adult, do you now get queasy/headache-y swinging on the play structure swings with your kids? Okay, well. It’s like that, only to the tenth power. It sort of goes away after about five minutes, so just keep bouncing. Also, bring Tylenol.
Wear a sports bra. This is a consideration for both genders. It’s already not pretty out there so let’s just make the best of it for all involved.
There IS an upside to that stubborn ten to fifteen pounds you keep trying to lose. You can apply it by bouncing your own kid (up to 70#) into next week for that time they smeared Vaseline all over the bathroom.
Ignore the pencil thin tween girls who obviously come here to show off their weekly gymnastics lessons by ricocheting off the ramped sidewalls. Patience, my friends. They’ll get theirs someday. Oh, yes. They’ll get theirs...
The Foam Pit is not your friend. Yeah, yeah, we realize it looks inviting — like some sort of a “Freebird” fantasy— however, this is the area where your extra ten to fifteen pounds works against you. Just know that if you want to experience an anthropology lesson in why animals died in La Brea then, sure, go ahead. Also know that you’ll expend more energy in five minutes trying to get out of that fluffy hell than a two hour Pilates class.
And the attendant won’t help you.
Stick to the main trampolines, people. Not only should you count yourself lucky that you are even doing this at your age but that springy Dodge Ball court isn’t any more fun than it was in elementary school. It will always suck to get picked last and get clocked in the head.
Finally, there will be a freakish, quakey-like, leaden feeling to your legs when you get off the trampolines. Just know it’ll linger for longer than you’d like it to. Don’t imbibe in the next 24 hours and you’ll be fine.
So the lack of enthusiasm puzzled me. Regardless of where you go, good grief, who wouldn’t love the kitschy cool shoes?
The retro lane graphics? The chance to go do something different for a couple of hours?
Uh, honey, the ball hasn't hit the pins yet.
I tried to tell them how awful it was to bowl back in the day. I mean, we had to throw the ball down the lane UPHILL. Both ways. In the snow. The joint was filled with beer and cigarette smoke. The floors were sticky. The pizza? Limp. The bowling balls were charred and boring. And there wasn’t anything to keep your ball from going into the gutter. Better luck next set, kiddo. And get this: we had to actually KEEP SCORE with busted up stubby yellow pencils. And paper. Remember that? Nope, no nifty electronic screens telling us Dad just got a turkey. Hello? DAD JUST GOT A TURKEY!
As we all know, the best part of bowling is coordinating the ball to your outfit.
Well, guess what? They weren't having any of that. And I don’t care. I don't care what score I get. I don’t care how many gutter balls I throw. I’m having some fun here.