Tweens

My five year old and I have season passes to the nearest expensive water park because I stabbed his extra-large little kid blow-up pool to death last fall. So to me, $100 passes compared to the $30 daily fee scene is not only penny-wise, but hopefully healing whatever happens to you after witnessing a shadowy figure bludgeon your kid pool with a grill fork.

"Dad... when we cookout tonight, we're not gonna turn those Tiki Torches on are we? Are we dad?"

"No. No, of course not. Why would we do that!?"

"Good, because remember last time when that man came and broke my pool. Right? Remember? I couldn't see him really because it wasn't like, bright enough with just the Tiki Torches on... Right? Remember?"

"Yeah buddy, don't worry about that guy... You have water park passes now. Besides, maybe you didn't know your pool as well as you thought. Remember how it always went flat... and how the water was never your favorite temperature? Well, some people call that being an asshole."

Fuck that pool.

At least that's how I felt until I had water passes.

Do you know where all the assholes in your community congregate on sunny 85 degree Tuesdays while you're at your cubicle stalking a friend's wife on Facebook? That's fucking right -- the water park.

I'm not a water park guy. I'm historically like, "yo... Fuck the fucking water park," ya know? But this summer is for my kid and he loves the water -- so there you'll find us.

Me, spackling SPF 3 million onto my head -- him, with his full head of curly hair and tan skin giving high fives to coed lifeguards -- me, trying to pretend there is no such thing as coed lifeguards nor sturdy stay-at-homes giving googly-eyes and Xanax smiles because my kid's not an asshole and I don't need a shirt at the pool.

It's a fucking freak show -- especially in the deep suburbs.

The only thing that makes me more uncomfortable than my peers and their children is that I've yet to see any teens sneak off to burn a cigarette, or weed, or get caught smuggling liquor, or finger banging behind the water slide, or complaining about the stream of Bieber, Jimmy Buffett & Walmart version Lil B that loops endlessly from sunup to sundown. They're all in. All of them. All the time. They all just sit in the shade checking Instagram in between snacks -- nodding to the Bieber and edited rap -- smiling numbly into their smart phones as coed lifeguards jiggle past unnoticed.

It's disgusting. The only way I can prepare and decompress is with the new Tweens album. We rock it all the way there and all the way home. It's just 36 minutes of bratty trash pop that sounds a lot like the teen spirit I expected to get a whiff of at the water park this summer... And it's something that we'll be playing at our own backyard pool parties in the future because in the future my kid still won't be an asshole.