Deranged Mind

October 20, 2007

High School Musical

Filed under: children,Humor,Society — The Deranged One @ 1:18 am

My experience with ice skating has been rather limited. In high school, I dated an ice skater. She had the tightest ass I’ve ever seen thanks to getting up at 0400 to skate round and round. (I saw her recently, Father Time hasn’t been very kind to her since she stopped skating. It looks as if he worked her ass over with a Louisville Slugger turning it into a mass of mush.) Anyway, the extent of my interest in ice skating ended with its effects on the development of her ass. And as soon as I realized she had more issues than Readers Digest, I moved on.

Fast forward 10 or so years. I was a young man, no longer in high school, yet still without an interest in ice skating. If ice skating happened to be on television, I’d rather clean the toilets. I certainly wouldn’t sit down and watch it of my own free will. My mother, on the other hand, loved ice skating. She couldn’t get enough of it. So to be a nice guy, I bought her two tickets to some ice skating show for her birthday. I’m still not sure what it was – some washed up ex-Olympians on ice. The afternoon of the performance, my younger sister called to say she had been hospitalized and was scheduled that evening for an emergency appendectomy. And dear mom insisted that I use her tickets to the ice skating show since she was flying up to be with my sister. Joy. I don’t remember a whole lot about the performance other than it was the longest two hours of my life.

After that, I pushed ice skating back into the deep recesses of my memory and carried on with life. Until tonight. My youngest is in Brownies. Her troop wanted to go to see Disney on Ice. And guess who my little one wanted to go. Yes, yours truly. But wait, it gets better. The performance was supposed to be High School Musical.

Now, as you’ve probably surmised, I’m not thrilled about ice skating. And I haven’t the first clue what High School Musical is. I asked several of my stay-at-home-MILF-neighbors whom I know I can trust, but they weren’t much help. Nobody could tell me what it was. My little one would go on and on about how great it is but not much more. The 10 year old couldn’t really help. And I didn’t even bother with the teenagers. I’d have more luck talking to the wall. So I was left in lurch.

When my little sister was in junior high school or so, she wanted to go see New Kids on the Block. Remember them? I certainly do because I was the sucker who agreed to take her. God, it was utter torture. Any of those Amnesty International assholes who want to take up the cause for the pieces of shit housed at Guantanamo Bay should be forced to sit through a New Kids on the Block concert. They will quickly learn that the harshest treatment the enemy combatants face, is a walk in the park compared to a New Kids concert. Water boarding? That’s nothing compared to Hanging Tough. Sleep deprivation? How about Please Don’t Go Girl? There was a whole arena full of screaming teenyboppers who were practically fainting. And there was a constant high pitched scream that probably caused small animals to convulse for miles around. All in all, it wasn’t much fun.

But after tonight, I’d take a New Kids on the Block concert any day of the week. Think of an arena full of adolescent New Kids concert goers combined with ice skating and you have High School Musical. It was horrible. There was constant screaming, the music sucked and twists and spins on the ice. On and on it went. And naturally, I had a big fight when we got there. “Daddy, we need a program.” Not for $20 we don’t. “Daddy, can I have cotton candy?” $12.50???? You’ve got to be kidding me. “Can I have a snow cone?” Wow, only $15 and we get to keep the cup. That’s a deal and a half if the fucking thing were gold plated. As soon as the show started, these little white girls in front of us, leaped from their seats and started dancing with about as much rhythm as an out of balance washing machine. The little girl behind us kept kicking my seat for all she was worth. And through it all, we had to listen to horrible music accompanied by screaming.

Now, I’m obviously not an expert on ice skating, but in my humble opinion, tonight’s skating was nothing to write home about. Between screams, kicks and a couple of twirls, it was just a bunch of people skating back and forth. Nothing special. I got my hopes up when the lights came on after 45 minutes or so, but it was just intermission. They rolled out a Zamboni to smooth the ice, but honestly, there hadn’t been enough action to even rough it up.

Lights went back down, screaming resumed and there was some more mediocre skating. After another 45 minutes, the torture was finally over. My head hurt. There was a constant ringing in my ears. And my back hurt from being wedged in a broken seat. All in all, it sucked. Maybe my seat was just too far away to really focus on any tight ice skaters’ asses.

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