What is it with these flippin’ birds? Why are they so angry?
Our kids have been playing the demo version of Angry Birds for weeks now. I have friends that have been playing it for much longer and have insisted that I should give it a try because it’s fun and addicting. Apparently I need another diversion in my life because I have too much time on my hands.
But I finally gave in.
My Angry Birds obsession began on Saturday as Traci and I sat through what was supposed to be a ninety-minute timeshare spiel about how each of us deserved to take a vacation at least once a year, and that for just under four grand down and just over eighty bucks a month we could do exactly that.
We had no intentions of or even money to buy a timeshare but wanted the free Dallas Stars tickets and three-day, two-night stay at Great Wolf Lodge, so our Saturday afternoon was simply a cost of doing business. Turns out it was so much more.
While waiting for our sales representative to rescue us from the filled to capacity lobby, Brady and I sat together in one of the overstuffed leather chairs so that he could show me the finer points on how to play.
Talk about a mistake. I’ve barely been able to put the game down in the twenty-four hours since being released from timeshare prison.
This wouldn’t be that big of a deal if I didn’t have two tests to study for. But if I’m being honest about the whole ordeal, I have to blame my children. They were in serious danger of getting into trouble with the Bedroom Inspection Nazi this morning for not picking their crap up, so I bribed them with the full version if they could just manage to cooperate and make magic happen and keep the ruckus to a minimum while they did it.
What seemed like a brilliant idea at the time has proven to be a potential source of blame should I fail out of college at thirty-five, because every time I start making some semblance of progress with my studies, one of them calls to me from the living room in dire need of my help in moving on to the next level.
Because I am a loving father and want my children to succeed at everything they attempt in life, I oblige. I mean, one level of Angry Birds won’t throw me too far off track, and I’ll have the satisfaction of being a hero and the eternal gratitude and love that they will look back at on their wedding days when they officially begin their own families.
Twenty minutes later I return to my studies, armed with my own satisfaction that after beating an additional seven new levels I have shown those pigs who really is boss and in the process have indeed obtained true hero status in my son’s eyes, who has given up on ever getting to play Angry Birds again and has moved to the couch with his Leapster.
Again I manage to settle into a good study groove, and again I hear the call of the wild from just beyond the closed door.
“Daddy, I can’t kill those pigs. Will you help me?”
Private Daddy reporting for active slingshot duty, sir!
“I’ll do it, Brady,” Kacie calls from the kitchen. Bird-blocked by my own daughter. Like a cobra she’d been biding her time, waiting to strike. I’m going to have to remember to make up some cockamamie reason to ground her.
“Kacie,” her mother shouts says almost instantly, “you need to be done with Big Birds and finish your homework.”
Yes. Bedroom Inspection Nazi to the rescue. I am going to have to remember to bring her flowers tomorr--
--Wait. Did she really just say what I think she did? No way. Traci has to know that it’s Angry Birds and not that yellow dude from PBS. She can’t possibly be that out of touch with reality, can she?
Who cares. Luckily for Kacie she has at least one cool parent. Even luckier for me, I’ve just been unbird-blocked. Sweet.
Like a ninja I begin to silently open the bedroom door and prepare to launch into a tuck and roll, snag the iPad off the couch in one effortless scoop, and lay my claim to Angry Birds once again.
“You need to be done too,” Traci says before I can even get the door half-way open. “Have you finished your homework?”
Dirty birds. All of ‘em. Brady for getting me hooked. Kacie for trying to steal my hero status. Traci for throwing down the gauntlet. Those flippin’ birds for being so angry and taunting me like that. Don’t they know who I think I am?
I let my silence do the talking as I shut the door and slink back to my cave with a major case of blue-bird. This one’s gonna smart.
But eventually they have to go to bed. When they do, those Angry Birds are all mine.
goodness seems like your in some deep doo doo coachh(:
ReplyDeleteSeems like the "Bird-Flu" is still going around...
ReplyDeleteSyptoms:
An agonizing pain...caused by the shot to your ego should the birds win..
A fever...caused by the sweating and anticipation of play
Feeling Weak or Overconfident...caused by bird and pig dominance over the "game" you thought you had -or- caused by that "I'll-beat-this, I-don't-need-any-help" attitude (ya know, the same attitude you get when you're actually sick and you don't want to succumb to the trip to the doctor's office)
Addiction... caused by a NEED to play the game. A NEED to get that fix of beating those angry, no good exuse for feathers and over-eating, fat pigs to move on to the next level.
Cure... still in the research phases.
Recommendations:
Keeping Traci far away from the game. Should she succumb to its evil forces, she too will be swept away to that black hole of addiction, no longer free to socialization, family, television, and evil sales people. There should be at least one person in the house who should be able to snatch the IPad from the talons of all those who play, and upon the moaning and threats of stealing it back, have that scary voice that utters those 5 famous words, "Do you feel lucky, punk?," at which point everyone gives up for fear of not making it to their next birthday and goes on about their normal lives.... Again, just a recommendation...
Just a little bit, Keaton... :p
ReplyDeleteAshley - you know, I was wondering how our lives would play out if indeed Traci did start playing. Nothing would ever get done. The voice of reason would be gone. Life as we know it would totally change.