It's official. I'm the unofficial world snow ball fight champion. It's all snowy here. Woke up this morning and Christmas songs started going through my head when I looked outside and saw white. Then, sometime later, the gang was getting all spatted out in their snow gear, looking like arctic explorers. I don't have any exploration gear. I do have a pair of work gloves though. And my trusty baseball pullover. It's kinda funny that I wear pants to pool parties and like the same exact thing in the snow. Just no modulation in climate appropriate attire. I digress.
So they are all outside and I'm inside. Then I had an idea. Pre-emptive strike. Rich is a prankster. He likes throwing firecrackers at you when you're not looking. And sneaking into the house to scare the kids, throwing his seven year old son into the drink on New Year's day, etc. Anyway, I pulled my gloves on and crept outside. Right about the time I got my first snowball ready one of the kids screamed, "Corey!".
That's right. I immediately drilled everyone in the family with what I thought were regulation size and weight snowballs. Naturally, that's 9 inches around and five ounces. Like a baseball. It became clear early on that I had an unfair advantage or six. Within a few seconds everyone was on the ground, groaning. Except Rich. He hastily retreated to the garage where he could get his hands on the fire crackers. So everyone is on the ground and Shelli says, "This is unfair. You were a professional baseball player!" Oh ya. So I shouldn't be doing dose drills with a seven and ten year old boy? And my 40 year old female cousin? Whatever.
I was just flagrantly dominating this family like LeBron James at a charity basketball game, just doing 360 dunks and show boating and all the rest. The kids ran across the street and I was still picking them off from a hundred feet away. Then someone hit me with a snowball. It actually stung a bit. "Sorry kids". Kinda funny to me how I was flagrantly owning these kids in snowball fighting and declared myself all-world snowball fighter. Before I left, I said, "I hope you guys don't mind, but I'm giving myself the MVP trophy for this affair." No one laughed. No one likes my jokes up here.
I think I might make myself a little certificate to add to my resume for my interview tomorrow. That's right. I have another interview for a fishing gig, because let's be honest. Shelli and co are ready for me to be gone. Every time I try to make a joke or participate in family activity it's just wrong wrong wrong. The two year old has almost killed himself because of me like five times. Today he got his hands on my razor and dad found him trying to shave with it. Ouch. Sorry about that. I haven't done the same thing twice, but have for sure done the wrong thing around these kids every day at least once.