Aselin

This morning I received a coupon offer in my inbox for half off of laser tag. Woo hooo! My little family loves laser tag. Skulking around in a dark room with 30 people you've never met. Wearing a sweat-infused sensor vest worn by thousands before you. Identifying the weakling in the herd who has never played before and didn't know that the white on their shoe laces would fluoresce under the black lights - giving their location away to everyone in the room. Yeah, good times.

With the coupon, games were $4, which is a pretty good deal, so I picked up a few. As I read down the coupon, I started to giggle uncontrollably at an overzealous writer at the marketing department. Here is how they describe their laser experience:

"The cuddly lasers of Stratum Lasertag emit the perfect levels of nostalgic radiation to send any gamer's organic heart back to a more-innocent time of blacktop antics when tag was still played with hurled bottles and catapulted boulders."

I'm sorry, but what the heck? What part of that picture closes the deal? The cuddly lasers? Maybe the nostalgic radiation? Who doesn't miss the time when we played tag by hurling bottles at each other?

Good grief.

I'm going to tell the kids, "Kids, we don't need no pansy laser tag. We can just run around in the street hurling rocks and bottles at each other. It's cheaper and more authentic than simulated electronic substitutes." They will totally go for that. Although my option doesn't include any lasers to cuddle with.

Bummer.