as a parent blogger, it's mandatory i write this post

Monday night, my Tool Man and I took the boys to Chuck E. Cheese's as a belated hip hip hooray for my youngest son's birthday. I'd hoped he'd forgotten we'd agreed to such an adventure two weeks earlier when he'd charged through the house, hopped up on mouse lust. Sadly, the kid who can't remember to brush his teeth twice a day (hell, even once a day) woke up Sunday morning and asked "Chuck E. Cheese's?" and I was a goner. "Tomorrow, baby," I caved. "We'll go tomorrow night when it's probably not as crowded."

That, ladies and gentlemen, is a testament to how damn cute my kid is. If you saw him, you'd say, "That's a damn cute kid. Hell, I'll take him to Chuck E. Cheese's, he's just that cute." To which I'd respond, "Here. He's all yours. He likes straight up pepperoni pizza. No sausage, no funny business. Have fun, but be home by 8 p.m., because he needs a bath tonight. It's picture day at school tomorrow and he needs time for his funky hair to dry."

Seriously. Where the hell were you all last night when I was sighing and lamenting my fate, anyway, because P.S.? Monday night is not a quiet night at Charles le Fromage.

P.P. S. - I spent the entire evening referring to Chuck E. Cheese's as Charles le Fromage's, much to the annoyance of Tool Man, who may have laughed twice, but then was all, "Stop, OK? I get it!" and I may have been all, "This is Bitch, calling in a payback!" because seriously, dude can totally drag a lame joke into the ground.

As is customary for those who have sired children AND a blog, I'm now going to give you a post comprised of my random gripes about Chuck E. Cheese's, but in an unexpected twist, what I'm going to do is share them as highlights of the the night, starting with the lowest on the list and culminating with that which made the night spectacular. Enjoy!

• Getting our hands security stamped by an employee we had to rouse. Nothing says, "I've got confidence you won't let my kid leave with a pedophile!" like tapping the shoulder of some 16-year-old ne'er do well who will slowly lift her head from the velvet ropes and greet us with warm, gooey silence.
• The lack of good games. WTF Chuck? Last time you and I hung out together, there were some cool games to partake in as I slowly prayed for death. Now it's just a bunch of games where one has to spin a wheel or launch a game token at a shark or chicken head in hopes of pulling down the bounty of prize tickets. Yeee-aawwwwnnn.
• The old guy positioned near the Deal or No Deal machine. The one who didn't appear to be related to anyone at the restaurant, and who kept asking passing kids, "Are you ready to play Deal or No Deal?" like some creepy Willy Wonka, then gifting them with shiny game tokens retrieved from his pants pocket ("Gah! Please, please, please just be touching tokens while you're digging in your pockets for that token, mister!" I prayed more than once as I watched him).
• Feeling like a queen among my peers in their various states of undress as I walked around in a shirt marred by the dried tributary of chicken noodle soup spilled upon myself earlier in the day. "Should I perhaps change before we go?" I asked myself before we left home, then laughing at the sheer insanity of such a thought as I recalled how previous trips to this heaven have brought me face to face, so to speak, with the butt cracks, gunts and everything in between of some of the finest my state has to offer. Mmmm...stay classy, America's heartland!

And the number one reason my evening at Chuck E. Cheese's was so spectacular -

• The dude seated at the table next to us returned from the salad bar with a heaping plate of bacon bits and ranch dressing! JUST bacon bits and ranch dressing! People, I'm telling you, I caught this dude's eye as he positioned his moobs along either side of his treasure with his left hand and raised his fork with his right, and I saluted him. I also tried to take a photo of the spectacle, but dude wrapped his arm protectively around his bounty and shoveled it in so fast I feared he'd eat me, camera and all, if he noticed. I apologize for using this phrase again so soon after doing so in the post directly below this, but it is fitting, so I must - it was LeAwesome!

Halfway through the evening, I started feeling queasy (as one is wont to do after a slice or two of pepperoni and grease pizza), so I wadded up the napkin upon which I'd scrawled my last will and testament, and begged the boys to please hurry and waste their game tokens so we could leave. Then I begged Tool Man to run every red light to get us home quickly before the mini became a fun zone of horror. Naturally he stopped for gas before doing so (though believe me, there was already some gas in that thing, thank you very much)(seriously, I was praying for death). By the time we got home, I bailed out of the van, ran inside to the bathroom, stripped off my coat...and discovered MY PANTS HAD BEEN UNZIPPED THE ENTIRE TIME we'd been at Chuck E. Cheese's!

Not a little.

Not halfway.

Entirely!

Now I understand why that one chick who kept hobbling by me slowly with one shoe on and one shoe off gave me a thumbs up, but I'm pissed that I didn't at least score a prize upgrade. However, somewhere, I hope I'm a bulletpoint on someone's blog post of awesome things about the time at Chuck E. Cheese's last night.