My soon to be 11 year old just finished playing laser quest.  You know, the laser tag game franchise?  “Laser Quest” both a noun and a verb!  That should so totally be their tagline.  Hahahahaha “tagline” because according to them, you “tag” your friends, not “shoot” them.  That doesn’t really explain the laser gun.    Whatevah – good clean fun.

If you haven’t been, A) get out from underneath your fucking rock.  B) it really is kinda fun, and can be as geeky or as cool as you want.  Anyway, if you haven’t been, you pick a “codename” when you go so when you tag one of your friends (or one of the little shits at a Laser Quest birthday party) the system shows you who you tagged or got tagged by.  You have the opportunity to pick a new codename for each 20 minute game, or you can be the same dickhead you were to begin with.  “Dickhead” that wouldn’t be a bad codename. 

There is a laminated list of “suggested” codenames at the counter to get your creative juices flowing while the kid with the shaggy beard looks at you like you’re a loser.  Names like “Dominator” and “Killer” are among the suggested names.  Nice for a game where you’re not “shooting” each other.  Tonight my kid played two games.  His (yeah, HIS) first codename was “RNBWPRNCSS” (Rainbow Princess) and the second name was “BARBIEGIRL”.  He’s under the misinformed impression that a girlie name in a dark room full of black lights, infrared paint and fog is intimidating. 

What the HELL?  When I’ve gone, I’ve always chosen names like “Wizard” or “Zeus” or “SkullKrusher”.  It must have something to do with being a blatantly heterosexual male always playing an angle to get laid even if it is in my own mind.  The child myself and Baby Mama talked about, dreamed about and got pretty inappropriate with Laser Quest codenames on the way home.  I threw out names like “Femur Crusher” “Spiral Fracture” “Grim Reaper” and the such while Baby Mama just sat wondering whey the hell she ever agreed to have babies with me.  The child threw out several names I don’t remember (because it really is all about me anyway right?)  But the one that stuck was when I said maybe “JFK” and he shot back yeah, or “3 Shots That Changed America”.  My internal dialogue was pretty impressed that my 11 year old knew that, but my external dialogue said yeah or “Grey Matter Splashing”.

It was then that Baby Mama tried to tell me that “grey matter doesn’t splash, it kinda thunks”.  I said “well, really only Jackie O knows for sure”.  It got kinda quiet after that and we changed the subject pretty quickly.  For the sake of the next generation, I hope my boys can afford their own therapy.