Tomorrow we take all five kids to Disneyland. In general, M has barred me from theme parks, amusement parks, county fairs, and the like. This isn’t because crowds make me panic, [they do] or because I see roller coasters as some sort of medieval torture that we’ve conned ourselves into enjoying [I do].
No, M has barred me from parks because of all the nasty, and apparently audible, comments I make about all the park-goers:
“Someone needs to tell that woman that in Southern California fanny packs are a capital crime.”
“What is it with fat people and [fill in] white shorts/halter-tops/churros/fanny packs…?”
“Apparently this guy spent all his pennies on elaborate body art instead of good dental care.”
“Who let out all the ugly babies?”
Nothing too damning, but enough to get me suspended.
It seems that shlepping through the park with five kids in tow was all the pressure M needed to reinstate my park privileges. So, to avoid a public marital spat, or banishment, I have vowed to keep my lips sealed and instead, take photos of all the nastiness.. And document it for posterity. Or at least until M finds out and makes me erase all the evidence.