This past weekend the kids, Baby and I went to Baby's niece's baby shower. The baby-daddy is a young 20-something Latino. He seems nice enough. However, there's apparently an unspoken code about accepting new males into the family. The code may involve violence or bladder-loosening fear.
Baby was in charge of the margarita's, which....I'm not sure it's wise to ever have liquor at a baby shower for two 20-something, underemployed, previous-baby-mama/daddy-having idjits. It is very possible that we unintentionally served alcohol to some minors, also. By the third pitcher of margaritas and one empty large bottle of 1800 Tequila later, the menfolk were getting rowdy in the kitchen and the women had retreated outdoors. GAME ON BITCHES! The niece's stepdad and Baby thought it was time to give the young baby-daddy the business. This is a phenomenon also known as Quien Es Mas Macho or Who Has The Bigger Nut Sack. Liquid courage is a dangerous thing.
Baby: Let's GO! Come on! We can go out back and wrestle.
[I need to break in here to remind you that Baby and the stepdad are 40-ish.]
Hostess [Baby's sister]: OMG! Not wrestling!
Stepdad: [throws down his watch and IPhone] LET'S DO THIS!
Baby: [pulls out a wad of cash, throws down $100 bill] I put a c-note on it. COME ON, Son! What you got?!
New Baby-Daddy: [deer in the headlights]
Larry [Baby-Daddy's friend]: hey...uh. There's a basketball court up the street.
Stepdad and Baby in unison: HELL YEAH!! Let's go boys!
Stepdad goes into his room to change. Baby, however, did not have a change of clothes. He burst in on his 8-year old nephew.
Baby: Gimme those shorts, boy.
Nephew: [looks down at the shorts he's wearing] No. [returns to playing his Xbox]
Baby: Dammit... [rummages through nephew's belongings]
Enter Stage left: Baby in an 8-year old's pair of white basketball shorts.
Fuck My Life. Remember back in the 70's when dudes used to wear their jeans so tight that it was the equivalent of a camel-toe? A male camel toe is basically what Baby was offering us. I need to remind you that we're still at a BABY SHOWER.
[insert more shit talking from the elder statesmen]
Grandpa, in an effort to maintain some order, ushered all the boys into his large SUV. The niece and I followed in my car. Poor Niece...here she is 9 months pregnant and she's about to watch her uncle and her stepdad humiliate, torture and possibly injure her boyfriend.
The basketball game commences, but WAIT. There's already a little boy on the court. They somehow commandeer his basketball and he takes it upon himself to be the unofficial official. Why was this little boy talking more shit than anyone else? I think he was feeding off the testosterone of the players. The one hour long game was punctuated by one twisted knee, one turned ankle, a minor groin pull, a possible rib contusion, several trips and falls, very FEW jump shots made, and a handful of blisters. The niece almost went into labor and started yelling "I'm gonna call my MOM" when Baby and the baby-daddy started wrestling for the ball and neither would give an inch.
The moral of this story is: when you decide to have a baby, meet the WHOLE family first and decide if you really wanna get involved with these machismo nutjobs. The initiation could get you killed.
I give props to the Baby-Daddy though. As bad as their basketball skills were, they beat the old farts by 3 points. And no one got shanked.
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