Beersbee

I've never been a fan of outdoor games. Watching or playing. I'm sure it's a direct result of growing up watching my Dad and his brothers play games. Horseshoes? Whose bright idea was that? My Dad and Uncles were carpenters. Decades of swinging hammers, hauling wood, lifting houses up over their heads...I might be exaggerating...these men developed behemoth sized biceps of epic proportion! And I'm supposed to stand idly by while they throw pieces of iron? That's messed up! It didn't matter where I stood because invariably one of those horseshoes would flip out of the pit and start hurtling toward me like a missile. A Jennifer seeking missile. Volleyball? I watched my sister, a jock who thought outdoor games were fun, get squashed like a pancake between two of my Uncles. I swear her nose has never been the same. Croquet? Jarts!?? No thanks. Not for me. 

That's how I felt until my friends brought out the Beersbee game. You throw a frisbee at a pole with a bottle on top of it. If you knock the opposing teams bottle off, you get a point. If you catch the frisbee when they throw it at your pole they don't get a point. Simple enough. I can catch a frisbee. Why not? Because outdoor games lead to trips to the ER, that's why not! 

I've never been competitive or sporty but I was an animal out there. I dove for the Frisbee. Dove and rolled and caught it! If you knew me you'd know how out of character that is for me. In high school I actually failed gym. With a big fat F. But suddenly in my mid forties, in my friend's yard, my competitive gene kicked in and I had to catch that Frisbee! At all costs! I'm not sure exactly when I injured my finger but by the end of the tournament I couldn't close my hand. My team came in second and I did indeed end up in the ER. Torn ligament...sigh. 

A Clown Themed Haunted House...SERIOUSLY?!

AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I recently read that there's a shortage of clowns and if the trend continues we may be approaching a time where there are no more clowns. This brought up a lot of questions for me. Are we really upset about this? Are we saying this is a bad thing?? I for one am a huge supporter of the no more clowns movement. I mean come on! Who came up with the idea of clowns in the first place? Let's take a guy, paint his face deathly white, draw a ridiculously huge red grin on his face and have him follow children around all the while not saying a word?? Seriously?! I say yes, let's bravely go forth to that happy place in time where there are no more clowns because CLOWNS ARE SCARY!!

My fear of clowns began when I was around seven and snuck out of bed to watch TV. It was some horrible movie starring, you guessed it, an evil clown. (This may possibly have been the moment my lifelong insomnia was born as well.) The movie caused the prompt and permanent ejection from my room of the clown doll my Mother had lovingly made me. Ironically his name was Happy. He seemed a friendly enough doll but after my late night escapade he was no longer trusted or welcome in my room.

I've never taken my kids to the circus because come on...it's infested with clowns! I've never seen the movie or read "It" and I never will. Stephen King is frightening enough without adding a clown to the mix. So you can imagine my horror when I realized the haunted house my kids were dragging me through had a theme. In case you haven't figured it out, it was a clown themed haunted house.

SERIOUSLY????!!!!!!!!

I put a brave face on even though this haunted house was full of evil, awful, super scary clowns. Clowns at every turn. Clowns in my face, leering, laughing. The kids and their friends thought it was the funniest thing ever. (Jerks). The best part was when a particularly scary clown jumped out at me. I lurched backwards and bumped into one of my group. I grabbed the hand of my group member and clutched it to my chest. Trembling I proceeded through this house of horrors. A few steps in and I hear a voice say to me, "You holding my hand little girl?" I turn to the person whose hand I'm holding expecting to see a friendly face but what I see instead is a clown! I'd been holding hands and strolling through a clown house with a clown! Oh the horror!! I don't think I can duplicate the sound that came out of me in that moment but it was impressive. Still I didn't let go of him right away, I was either in too much shock or was unwilling to release the human contact. When I did let him go I got out of there in a hurry and vowed to never, EVER go through a haunted house again.

Of course my children still think it was hysterical.

Brats.