One of our followers suggested that we chronicle a day spent with a baseball player. Since this happens pretty often, we had to narrow down which story to share with you. We chose our random Tuesday spent with Bryce Harper because we figured that none of you really wanted to hear about our special friends that play for the Yankees and Mets (and by special, we mean "imaginary"). Plus, the restraining order is official and we're not allowed within 25 yards of those guys, soooooo....yeah. That's why we have to get our seats in the upper deck all the time. We're not cheap. Just ostracized.
So anyway. Back to Bryce. Since he's a child, we picked him up early from nursery school with his mother's permission...of course. We're not kidnappers. Sheesh. From the Children of Hope Academy for the Gifted, we drove Bryce (safely buckled into his car seat naturally...we're very responsible) in our rental Prius to play laser tag. It was Pizza Party Day at Laser Tag Land, so Bryce ate an entire pizza by himself even though we told him that it was a highly illogical thing to do. Boy, were we right. After a few minutes running around the laser tag course, Bryce threw up all over one of the girls on the green team. It was gross, but truth be told, she kind of deserved it. She was trash talking Lisa all over the place. She had to go. Unfortunately, the vomit incident prompted management to escort us from the vicinity. Turns out, being Bryce Harper doesn't get you everything.
We buckled Bryce back into his car seat, intending on heading to Friendly's for some ice cream sundaes, but Bryce stopped us. He said, "Listen here, my soul sistahs from another mistah, I'm having a fantabulous time, but February IS just around the corner and I need to get some work done. Can we hit up a batting cage instead?" Serena, being that she is a professional personal trainer, had an even better idea. We decided to take him to a local mini golf course instead. At first, Bryce was skeptical, but then Lisa reminded him of the fact that we basically transformed Tim Lincecum into a sparkling peacock that wins championships and he gave in. Case in point.
At the mini golf course, we bought Bryce a Good Humor Bubble Play ice pop and let him choose the pink golf ball. He gets very upset when he doesn't get his way. In fact, we always let him win because if we don't, we throws a temper tantrum and it's embarrassing. For us. While we waited our turn at the windmill hole (it took him at least twenty swings to get the ball through the windmill), Bryce mentioned that he proposed to his girlfriend, Kayla. Immediately, we voiced our displeasure. "You're too young to get married!"
Lisa: "How did you even propose?"
Serena: "On construction paper written in Crayola Crayon?"
Lisa: "With a Ringpop? What flavor was it?"
Serena: "Do you even know what we were doing at your age?"
Lisa: "Having a great time! Being awesome!"
Serena: "God, Bryce! You can't even tie your own shoes yet!"
Lisa: "Next thing you'll tell us is that you want children. Children having children! What's this world coming to?"
Serena: "You can barely recite the entire alphabet."
Upset by our tirade, Bryce ran off, screaming that he wasn't going to invite us to the wedding anymore (like we cared). Serena was fine with this outcome because she really didn't want to have to make the trip to drive him home anyway because it was out of the way and there were no Taco Bells in the area, but Lisa felt it was extremely irresponsible of us to not return him home to his mother like we'd promised. Ugh. We went after him and found him crying by himself on one of the coin operated french poodle rides outside of the mini golf place. Serena has no patience for this kind of crap, so she slapped him. It made him cry louder. He called Serena a "meanie." Lisa agreed that Serena HAD acted like a meanie, but that he also had to respect the opinion of his elders. He understood and apologized for being such an asshole, but asked us to please be respectful of his life choices and to his bride-to-be. We grumbled a reply, which was satisfactory to him, but really meant nothing to us, so as far as we're concerned, we agreed to nothing.
After that, we got giant cupcakes and drove Bryce home. He fell asleep in his car seat with chocolate smeared on his face. He looked like such a clown. After bidding his lovely mother farewell (she loves us...our photo is in a frame on the fireplace next to Bryce's engagement photos that had been taken at Nationals Ballpark), we drove ourselves to the airport for the trip home. It was a very long day, but it did help us reach a very important decision about our lifestyle choices. We've decided not to befriend any more baseball players because obviously they're all a bunch of overrated babies.