humor – Page 2 – Are You Finished Yet?

My Plan for Dethroning the Rainbow Loom

Published on November 26, 2013June 2, 2015 by Kelly Suellentrop52 Comments

Beanie Babies. Garbage Pail Kids. Pogs. Silly Bandz. The Pet Rock. Bracelets of the Friendship, Jelly, and Slap kind.

What do all these things have in common? Yes, they are all fads which kids at different points in history HAD to have. But they are also the worst kind of fads: the fads that make somebody rich by forcing poor parents to spend hard-earned money on crap we can already find in our homes: Beanie Babies=bean bags. Garbage Pail Kids=drawings of gross characters (my son makes these on a daily basis). Pogs=cardboard and poker chips. Silly Bandz=rubber bands. Pet Rock=rocks. Friendship Bracelets=thread. Jelly Bracelets=more rubber bands. Slap Bracelets=mini-blinds.

And now, there is the Rainbow Loom.

I’m going to bet every parent with a school-aged child just grunted. Why? Because the Rainbow Loom is a pain in the ass. For those of you lucky enough to not know what a Rainbow Loom is, it’s basically a combination of Silly Bandz and friendship bracelets. In other words, it’s a super hybrid fad. I would like to meet the genius who turned orthodontic rubber bands into the hot new must-have item among the juvenile set. And I would like this person to invite me over to his or her ~~home~~ mansion so I can sprinkle those tiny, brightly colored elastics all throughout it. Because if my daughter doesn’t manage to weave those little pieces of junk into a tight-fitting bracelet that cuts off the circulation to my hand, then they ultimately end up on the floors of every room in my house. And if they are all over the floors of my house, they aren’t in her little rubber band organizational case. And if that organizational case it empty, then I am tasked with spending another $5 on a small bag of things I used to get for free at the orthodontist’s office and made my teeth sore while correcting my overbite. And don’t even think about trying to use a coupon to help subsidy this new habit. Because those awesome weekly 40% off coupons at the hobby store can be used on pretty much everything…except the Rainbow Loom and its accessories. Bastards.

Don’t get me wrong. I think fads are fun, especially ones that promote creativity and artistic skill. But wouldn’t it be nice if something would catch on with kids that didn’t involve sweatshops in Taiwan?

Far be it from me to simply complain about something yet remain inactive. So I have taken it upon myself to suggest some candidates for new fads in children’s play…and none of them will cost you a dime. As a bonus, they all have that “reduce, reuse, recycle” thing going for them, because they are all born from crap already lying around your house.

1. Produce Bag Twist Ties Sculpture Kit

twist tie thinker — “The Thinker” a la twist ties.

You guys, we’ve had a goldmine of endless hours of play sitting in the bottom of our refrigerator produce drawers ALL THIS TIME. They twist. They bend. You can turn them into pretty much anything in the whole entire world. And when you run out, all you need to do is head to the grocery store to pick up some more apples. Which brings up another amazing quality of this toy: you can bribe your kids into better eating habits: “The more bell peppers you eat, the more twist ties I can get for your sculptures.” I don’t know, but I kind think this one could be a “Parent’s Choice” Award Winner.

2. Marker Caps Manicure Set

Until someone figures out a foolproof way to teach kids that the caps go back ON the markers after they are finished with them, this fad will likely enjoy some good longevity on the market. And you don’t have to use any harsh chemicals to remove them…or risk your child setting all her nail polisher remover-soaked cotton balls directly onto a bathroom shelf, adding yet another piece of household furniture to the “claimed by children” list. As for all those dried-out markers, sorry. The idea ends here.

3. Granola Bar Wrapper Headband Maker

We can finally all be free of those overpriced Lululemon headbands. I mean, my kids eat granola bars like they are going out of style, but it’s also apparently not in style to throw away the wrappers. Because they litter my house with them. No worries. Now our daughters can use them to make stylish headbands that promote adequate daily fiber intake and Puritan modesty, instead of ones that might become see-through if their heads exceed the maximum circumference deemed acceptable by some sad excuse for a CEO who doesn’t know how to apologize to his customers and all of humankind.

4. Dog Hair Knitting

So I was kind of joking. But this is apparently a real thing. There is even an eHow article on how to knit a dog hair sweater. Source: The Other licensed under CC BY 2.0

Think about it. It’s cruelty-free fur, and your floors will have never been cleaner.

5. Crayon Stubs Mosaic Kit

Um, pretty freaking awesome. "Crayon Mural" by Kelli Wilke is licensed under CC BY 2.0 — Um, pretty freaking awesome. “Crayon Mural” by Kelli Wilke is licensed under CC BY 2.0

Pretty self-explanatory. I wouldn’t mind buying a new box of crayons approximately every three months if I knew the nubs would end up someplace other than the bottom of random drawers, under couch cushions, smashed into carpets, and melted inside my floor vents.

So, what do you say, fellow moms and dads? Should we take the matter of fads into our own hands? Create the next big thing every kid in school has to have (and already does)? Keep our money for more important things, like college tuition…or splurging for heated seats on our next car purchase?

Let’s keep tiny rubber bands where they belong: in the metalled mouths of middle schoolers.

Do you have any more ideas for free fads? I’d love to hear them!

I’m linking up! So can you!

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Rule #1 in Sexual Education: Wear a Turtleneck

Published on November 7, 2013November 23, 2013 by Kelly Suellentrop18 Comments

For this week’s Remember the Time Blog Hop, Emily and I want to hear about your days in *shhhh* sex ed class *giggle.* While you are letting all those repressed memories come flooding back, here is my post on the subject to get you in the mood…

Fifth grade. Fifth grade was the magical year. The year we were deemed ready. Ready to have all revealed. And what they revealed was everything we ever wanted to know about sex…along with Continue reading “Rule #1 in Sexual Education: Wear a Turtleneck” →

Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Jacklegs

Published on October 29, 2013November 23, 2013 by Kelly Suellentrop33 Comments

Lately, my children have been testing me. Well technically, “testing me” is a constant state of being for them, but lately they just seem to be doing it on steroids. And that means it’s time to review some discipline tactics I’ve long had in my arsenal but forgot were there. I was looking over some materials from a “Love and Logic” course my husband and I took when my oldest was a toddler. Among the neatly bullet-pointed parenting ideas was Continue reading “Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Jacklegs” →

You Asked for It: “(I’m Not Your) Live-In Maid”

Published on July 26, 2013February 1, 2015 by Kelly Suellentrop24 Comments

Well, I’m not very timely in fulfilling my promises. But it is finished. As promised.

A while back I said that if you all helped me reach 320 followers, I would make a new music video as a follow-up to “My Van is Stacked.” Not only did you help me reach that number, but exceed it. So I am here to make good on my promise. Hopefully you will forgive my tardiness. Writing/directing/producing/performing/editing a music video I’m not getting paid for has a way of taking Continue reading “You Asked for It: “(I’m Not Your) Live-In Maid”” →

“(I’m Not Your) Live-In Maid”: A Music Parody for Fed-Up Parents

Published on July 26, 2013 by Kelly Suellentrop24 Comments

Well, I’m not very timely in fulfilling my promises. But it is finished. As promised.

A while back I said I would make a new music video as a follow-up to “My Van is Stacked.” So I am here to make good on my promise. Hopefully you will forgive my tardiness. Writing/directing/producing/performing/editing a music video I’m not getting paid for has a way of taking Continue reading ““(I’m Not Your) Live-In Maid”: A Music Parody for Fed-Up Parents” →

What Would My Blog Self Do?

Published on July 9, 2013November 23, 2013 by Kelly Suellentrop14 Comments

I have been thinking about my VBI lately. You know, my Visual Business Identity. Okay, so technically, I’m not a business. But this little blogging thing I do has become a job of sorts, and I find myself at the point of wondering if this whole thing is going anywhere. And if it is, where? And why? And how? And am I a “mommy blog“? A humor blog? A write-whatever-random-thoughts-come-into-my-head-blog? An anti-Chuck E. Cheese blog? A blog where every post would be about The Monkees if I didn’t think it would drive away 98.4% of Continue reading “What Would My Blog Self Do?” →

A Mother’s War Story

Published on June 18, 2013September 3, 2013 by Kelly Suellentrop6 Comments

The suffocating heat of the afternoon is losing its grip as early evening sashays in a few cool, cottony clouds to block the slicing rays of sun. The landscape is relatively quiet; the day has been without incident so far. The other lookouts and I settle into a false sense of security, letting our attentions wander to other places we would rather be.

A methodical pinging sound slowly begins. I am coaxed out of my complacency by a sense of impending doom. I know that sound, like flesh on metal. I need to warn my troops. My eyes feverishly scan the terrain, but I don’t see them. They have already heard the signal and have taken it upon themselves to act. And not just my troops. They all have. In the blink of an eye, they are all thrusting themselves into the middle of it. I’m too late.

And then the screaming begins. I see hands and feet whiz by me at a breakneck speed. Some appear to be actually enjoying the primal emotions being brought to the surface. They become emboldened, even ruthless, in this dangerous dance of sorts. But others weren’t meant for this, and they cave from the fear. For brief seconds I glimpse the desperation that flays their eyes wide open, and I hear the terrified pleadings for their mothers.

I blurt to one of the other lookouts, “We have to stop it!” But we are helpless. The wheel is in motion and has gained too much momentum, and the ones who have been hardened by years of this torture are maniacally eager to keep it going. Our pleas for them to stop fall on deaf ears. All that is left to do is futilely stare at what we should have prevented had we been doing our jobs, had we been properly looking after our troops, and pray for minimal casualties.

It’s every man for himself as the centrifugal force starts picking them off, one by one. They fall to the ground, pieces of bark and shredded tire impressed into bare knees and tangled into hair. Their comrades don’t even try to help as running feet trample them, caught up in the rush. Oh, the horror! They’re only children, for God’s sake! Every mother stands on edge, not wanting it to be her son or daughter. Just let my child make it off alive.

I hate that %#@*&% merry-go-round.

Ireland, It’s Okay To Be Yourself

Published on May 8, 2013May 14, 2013 by Kelly Suellentrop28 Comments

I haven’t been giving my blog much love lately. And the fact that many of the blogs I follow have been all up in my inbox recently, posting multiple times a week (some even being brave enough to tackle the “Blog Every Day in May” challenge), has made me feel a scosche inadequate. I really have no excuse…except that I was away, traveling in Ireland. That is so a good excuse.

Scratching Ireland off of my bucket list was exhilarating. Only I have already added it back onto my bucket list, because a week was not enough time to properly spend there, to see all I wanted to see. Just like Lucky Charms, Ireland really is magically delicious. I feel like I ate a whole bowl of it, but now I want to go back and pick out all the marshmallows left behind in the box.

Ireland has to be one of the most breathtakingly gorgeous countries of the world. Raw yet refined natural landscapes meld with remnants of past civilizations and a national pride born out of respect for both history and the God-given beauty bestowed upon them. The Irish don’t simply tear down what is old to begin anew; they either maintain it for posterity with diligence and attention to detail, or simply let the impression that remains exist among what continues to thrive and grow. My husband, who works for a window manufacturer, marveled at the quality of workmanship in the homes we saw that had to have housed generations upon generations. And as we drove across the country, it became a sort of game to call out “Random Castle!” every time we saw a ruin amidst a neighborhood of houses or atop a small hill, surrounded by green pastures…or next to a petrol station.

The Gap of Dunloe — Gazing at the beautiful mounds of the Gap of Dunloe while listening to John Mayer’s “Your Body is Wonderland” just seems wrong

Yet there was one thing missing as we traversed the Technicolor green landscapes, populated with sheep, cows, and rainbow painted cottages. There we were, feeling very “local” driving on the opposite side of the road and the opposite side of the car, taking in the beauty of Ireland. All we needed was some good Irish music to complete the mood. I turned on the radio, and out comes one of Rhianna’s crappy monotone songs. Yeah, no. Next station: Nickelback. Next station: “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Seriously? Is there not ONE station in Ireland that plays local music? The answer is no. Their radio waves are pretty well dominated by American music. Well, that kind of killed the mood. So we listened to Mumford & Sons on my husband’s phone. Okay, so technically Mumford & Sons is from London. But same side of the pond. I’m counting it.

Music was not the only aspect of American culture to invade Ireland. Of course there were smatterings of our good old fast food restaurants about the country. Subway and Burger King seemed to be favorites. But the kicker for me was walking past this old, gorgeous feat of architecture in Dublin and suddenly getting a whiff of something that made me concerned I was about to be pick-pocketed by a swarm of fourteen-year-old hooligans trying to impress a giggling gaggle of scantily clad middle school girls (yes, sadly, even Irish girls dress like o’tramps). You know the smell I’m talking about. It is the smell that can actually offend all five of your senses every time you go the mall. That beautiful old building housed an Abercrombie & Fitch. I was embarrassed to be an American. So far, my country was being represented in Ireland by Rhianna, fast food, and Abercrombie & Fitch. (The last of which is particularly hard to swallow after recently reading an article where company CEO Mike Jefferies admits to not carrying larger sizes because he wants to cater his clothes to the “cool kids,” and he doesn’t feel larger women in particular can be cool. Hey, I guess it’s his prerogative. The way I see it, it just makes it that much easier for the rest of us to spot all the a-holes. They will be the ones wearing Abercrombie & Fitch.)

Then, in a gift shop, I saw these:

Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe the Irish are trying to pass off their own versions of He-Man and Gene Simmons. It’s so blatant, it’s not even funny.

And then there was this at the Murphy’s Centra grocery store:

American style. I am not an expert on pandas, but they don’t strike me as having talent to make peanut butter. Now Peter Pan, he’s got mad skills. I think I’m going to trust the flavor palate of the guy who undoubtedly has a permanent case of pixie dust induced munchies over an animal whose ideal snack is bamboo. I’ll call the panda when I need new wood floors.

But the piece of American pop culture to beat all others invading Ireland was this bag we received after purchasing some souvenirs in a gift shop in the town of Adare, known as “the prettiest town in Ireland:”

Take a good look. Does that charicature look familiar? I thought it did as the cashier handed it to me, but I quickly brushed the thought aside. I mean, it couldn’t be. Why WOULD it be? It just doesn’t make any sense for it to be. So we walked around the town a bit. But I just couldn’t let it go. I examined the bag more closely, trying to read the words that were printed backwards. Winning…I got tiger blood man. Holy O’Guiness! It was, in fact, CHARLIE SHEEN on my gift bag…from a tiny souvenir shop…in a small little town…in Ireland. Well, I just couldn’t let this go, so we went back to the shop. I had to get to the bottom of this. I very politely asked the cashier why in the world she had Charlie Sheen on her bags. She immediately laughed and said I was the second person that day to ask her about it. And frankly, she had no idea why. She didn’t even know who Charlie Sheen was. When she found out that he was Martin Sheen’s son, she did tell us that the Irish LOVE Martin Sheen. They are always giving him awards. I laughed and broke the news to her that Charlie is, well, kind of a horrible person. She laughed so hard, and decided that maybe she should stop using the bags, in case it might offend anyone. But she planned to use it at the smoke shop she owned down the street. According to her, “we’re a bit politically incorrect down there anyway.” Honestly, it was one of the best parts of the trip.

But the whole thing begged the question: Ireland, why do you feel the need to assimilate so much of American culture into your own? And if you are going to continue, at least import the good stuff. I mean, it was a little disconcerting to hear “Regulators” by Warren G on the Galway Bay ferry ride over to the Aran Islands, which hold close to traditional Irish culture, still primarily speak Irish Gaelic, and only recently installed one ATM at the small grocery store on the largest island, Inishmore.

If anything, America should adopt more of Irish culture. Here are a few suggestions I think we should implement:

1. Mansize Kleenex. They were enormous. And if you could realize how many Kleenex we go through at my house, thanks to my husband and his fog-horn nose blowing, you would understand why this was such a big deal.

2. Bottle Openers in the Bathroom. I kid you not. This picture was taken in the bathroom of our hotel in Dublin. The Irish really do drink beer anywhere. Cheers.

3. Public Holy Water Fountains. Because sometimes waiting for a priest to do an exorcism just won’t do.

4. Gaelic Football. It’s not soccer. It’s not rugby. It’s not football. My best guess is that it’s like those games you played as a kid where everyone made the rules up as you went along. Now it’s okay to touch the ball with your hands…You can run with it, but only if two people are chasing you…First you have to kick it, then catch it, then pass it…You can score by getting a goal, or by getting it through two poles…Seriously. We went to one of these games, and couldn’t figure it out for the life of us. But I still can’t figure out American football, and Gaelic football players wear tight shorts. I vote for Gaelic football.

5. Cute Old Men Strolling/Riding Bikes/Walking Dogs. These guy are everywhere in Ireland. Everywhere. And one thing you might not know about me is that I am a tad obsessed with cute old men, especially if they are riding bikes, walking dogs, or strolling in little Irish tweed caps. All I wanted was to take one photo of a cute old man in Ireland, but I just couldn’t find the right moment…mostly because said old men would have totally seen me taking a random picture of them, and then I would feel like a weird creeper. The above photo was my one chance of going unnoticed. This cute old guy was walking his dog, who wasn’t on a leash. It was perfect. But just as I went to snap the photo, the dog shot ahead into the street and almost got hit by a car. Happy ending for the dog (since the car stopped in time), but sad ending for me, who only got this picture of a cute old guy thinking he’s about to see his dog meet an untimely death. I will say that it was partly worth it to hear him properly scold the dog afterwards with his jaunty Irish accent…and dropping f-bombs like nobody’s business. But I move that we need more of these cute old men on the streets of America. Here, they are all behind the wheels of cars, decreasing the cuteness factor, as well as the safety for all drivers in the vicinity. I may try to start an organization that works to put new shiny bikes in the hands of cute old men everywhere. It would be a step closer to my utopia.

Speaking of driving, there is one American thing I would suggest the Irish adopt: our roadways. Irish roads, traffic lanes, road signs, and lack there of are ridiculous. Don’t believe me? Here is a video of us driving:

Other than that, I really think Ireland is just fine being itself. It is a country rich in history with unparellelled beauty. I hope to return someday. But next time I will know to bring my own Irish music from home.

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A Suburban Horror Story: The Return Chuck E.

Published on April 5, 2013June 2, 2015 by Kelly Suellentrop21 Comments

When most people hear the name Chucky, two things come to mind: a demonic doll who terrorizes mankind and a mouse who pushes pizza and skee ball. Or maybe they are actually one in the same! GASP!

chucky and chuck e cheese — Look away…it’s terrifying

Think about it. Have you ever seen them in the same place at the same time? And they have the exact same M.O. They both worm their way into our lives through our kids as if they are harmless byproducts of childhood fun, only to later strangle the life out of us and our well-meaning desire to make our young ones happy.

A disgust for Chucky from the Child’s Play horror movie franchise is normal; but what do I have against Chuck E. Cheese, you say? Many of you already know my seedy background with this over-sized cartoon mascot. But if you don’t, I suggest you first read my post, “Chuck E. Cheese Could Have Been Your Father,” before proceeding. Everything will become crystal clear after that…I promise. Don’t worry. I will wait for you…

…I know, right? What can I say? I’m blessed. Anyhoo…

So here is the next chapter in the ongoing horrific saga of me and Chuck E. He’s stalking me. I am completely convinced of it. I thought I had managed to escape from his clutches oh so many years ago, but I didn’t count on having children…children he would end up using as pawns enabling him to come back into my life and terrorize me.

It is true that since becoming a mother, we have visited Chuck E. Cheese restaurants on numerous occasions, mostly for school fundraiser nights and a few birthday parties. But I honestly thought that Chuck E never noticed me, that the wear and tear of motherhood and almost two decades had rendered me unrecognizable to him. But I should have known he wouldn’t show his cards that early in the game. Silently, and unbeknownst to me, he patiently endeared himself to my two kids with each passing visit. A high-five here. A free extra token there. How were they to know they were playing right into his grubby, freakishly large paws?

And it worked. About a month or so ago, these words oozed from my daughter’s lips: “I want to have my birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese this year.”

Despite the many, many, many other options I offered to her, she was staunch in her desire. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, she begged. Fine. I am not a victim. If this is the game you’re playing you sick bastard, I’m in. I’m not scared of you anymore. Me OR my 6 foot 6 enormously giant husband who once ripped a life-sized wrought iron wagon wheel lawn ornament straight from the ground. We will see who is going to be squeaking in their boots.

After trepidatiously making the reservation for the party, I tried to calm my nerves by being rational about the situation. That was a long time ago, Kelly. He has probably changed. Certainly a nationwide franchise wouldn’t risk their reputation or the threat of lawsuits by keeping a sleazebag of a mouse around for so many years. Would they? So I decided to do some research of my own. What I found wasn’t pretty. I should warn you; the following pictures may be disturbing. Please make sure your children aren’t present, and I apologize in advance for scarring for life the child that resides in your heart. But the truth must be known…

Are you really surprised? I mean, the guy has spent over 35 years unfazed by the background noise of arcade games and corny song parodies. This also explains why you feel hungover after leaving the place. I bet he circulates it through the vents. — Are you really surprised? I mean, the guy has spent over 35 years unfazed by the background noise of arcade games and corny song parodies. This also explains why you feel hung over after leaving the place. I bet he circulates it through the vents.

chuck e cheese tickets — I swear I’ve heard him whisper “Make it rain” when he throws out those free tickets.

See? SEEEEEE??!! I TOLD you he was a creep! I wish I didn’t feel so justified.

chuck e cheese hug — From the looks of the fashions in this picture, the harassment has been happening for decades.

On the day of the party, my guard was up. I secretly took vengeful satisfaction when Chuck E. emerged to greet our party and my daughter’s friends ran up, encircled him, and started poking and prodding his mouse parts. My mouth mumbled a dutiful but half-hearted, “Girls, don’t assault Chuck E.” However, my mind was screaming, “NOT SO FUN TO BE GROPED, IS IT, YOU ANTHROPOMORPHIC CREEP?”

But Chuck E. knew where to hit back where it hurt: my kids wanted a picture with him. Now he would forever be a part of our sacred family memories on film. I could feel a panic attack begin raging through my body as my finger pressed down on the shutter release.

Wipe that grin off your face, you dirty rodent.

And he wouldn’t just leave us be after that. He insisted on being part of that special moment, when we sang happy birthday to my daughter and watched her blow out her candle. I felt violated by his blatant photo-bombing.

Look at him, staring right at me. He knows what he is doing. He is trying to see the fear in my eyes.

But it was almost over. The party was nearing the end. At one point, my daughter came over to me, looked at Chuck E. and said, “Don’t worry, mom. I’m sure it’s a totally different guy in that costume than the time he creeped you out.” Those were her exact words. My keenly perceptive, incredibly astute daughter said that during her birthday party. Listen to the children, they say. She was right. I finally felt like I could breathe again. I was being silly. Here I was giving the stink eye to someone who was probably not even born when that long ago Chuck E. made a pass at me. I needed to let it go. Besides, it was time for my daughter to take her turn in the ticket blaster machine, and for Chuck E. to make his exit back to the break room.

The sun came out again, and in its glowing rays, Chuck E. Cheese didn’t seem like such a menacing place after all. Everyone was smiling. We had made it. We had survived a birthday party at the place where a kid can be a kid. We made it out alive.

I stood among the group of 8 year olds crowded around the ticket blaster, watching my daughter try to ineptly grab tiny tickets flying around her. At first, I thought some of the air had escaped the machine, until I recognized the familiar stench of Limburger breath linger on the back of my neck for just a moment before it disappeared into a purple door adorned with the sign “Employees Only.”

My son, gluttonous for his own turn in the ticket blaster, turned to me and said, “I want to have my birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese, too!”

My nightmare continues…

* Disclaimer: While based on true events, this post is entirely for entertainment purposes only. At no time did anyone employed by or associated with Chuck E. Cheese restaurants harass or behave inappropriately toward me, my family, or our party guests. In fact, I would actually recommend having a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese (did I just say that?????). Despite it not being MY favorite place to go as an adult, it was a very easy and relatively inexpensive experience. In fact, we ended up having to cancel our party at the last-minute due to an incredibly ridiculous and unexpected snowstorm (at the END of MARCH?), and the manager was extremely understanding and did not penalize us at all. Everything, including our bonus tokens for originally scheduling on a Sunday, were transferred to our rescheduled date (which was not a Sunday) with no hassle. Our party attendant was attentive, easy to work with, and she even ended up giving my kids bonus tickets for no reason. It was literally the easiest birthday party I have ever thrown (see my Birthday Party Planning Junkie post to understand what I mean). All in all, happy kid and happy mom. As for the mouse…he was completely harmless.

Photo Sources (in order of appearance): gamingbolt.com/chuckecheese.com; fark.com; outpost81.com; nursethehateblogspot.com; dulutheast86.com; fanpop.com. The last three photos are mine.

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A Suburban Horror Story: The Return of Chuck E.

Published on April 5, 2013 by Kelly Suellentrop20 Comments

…I know, right? What can I say? I’m blessed. Anyhoo…

And it worked. About a month or so ago, these words oozed from my daughter’s lips: “I want to have my birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese this year.”

chuck e cheese and helen henny — The worst part is that it seems his girlfriend Helen Henny has no idea of his evil alter ego.

My son, gluttonous for his own turn in the ticket blaster, turned to me and said, “I want to have my birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese, too!”

My nightmare continues…

* Disclaimer: While based on true events, this post is entirely for entertainment purposes only. At no time did anyone employed by or associated with Chuck E. Cheese restaurants harass or behave inappropriately toward me, my family, or our party guests. In fact, I would actually recommend having a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese (did I just say that?????). Despite it not being MY favorite place to go as an adult, it was a very easy and relatively inexpensive experience. In fact, we ended up having to cancel our party at the last-minute due to an incredibly ridiculous and unexpected snowstorm (at the END of MARCH?), and the manager was extremely understanding and did not penalize us at all. Everything, including our bonus tokens for originally scheduling on a Sunday, were transferred to our rescheduled date (which was not a Sunday) with no hassle. Our party attendant was attentive, easy to work with, and she even ended up giving my kids bonus tickets for no reason. It was literally the easiest birthday party I have ever thrown (see my Birthday Party Planning Junkie post to understand what I mean). All in all, happy kid and happy mom. As for the mouse…he was completely harmless.

Photo Sources (in order of appearance): gamingbolt.com/chuckecheese.com; fark.com; outpost81.com; nursethehateblogspot.com; dulutheast86.com; fanpop.com. The last three photos are mine.