Angry Birds. Bringing Out The Awesome In All Of Us. Or At Least Me.

I hate trends. Trends make me not listening to music and dress like I’m trapped in 1999. But what really happens is I spend months making fun of Lady Gaga, leggings and ankle boots. And another month ignoring my urge to buy them without choking to death on my pride.  And then I’m gushing about my ankle boots about six months after everyone cares.

So when I first saw the tweets about Angry Birds, I thought: WTH. I HATE BIRDS.

(I should note here that I had NO IDEA what Angry Birds was or did. I just automatically hated it. Birds do that to me.)

And now that most people are like OH YEAH EVERYONE KNOWS ABOUT ANGRY BIRDS, I bought the game and am officially OBSESSED.

The premise: it’s game for your smart phone. (Thank goodness for technology!) A bunch of green pigs come in and steal eggs from birds. MAKING THEM ANGRY! In reality the birds have special powers and you have to use angles and physics and prayer to get them to hit the pigs and their fortresses in just the right way. TO DESTROY EGG-STEALING PIGS.

Angry Birds1
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One day, E asks what I’m doing.

Me: I’m playing Angry Birds.
E: Angry Birds? Can I play?
Me: Yes…

Because I’m AWESOME. At first, he watches me and cheers. This, my friends, is perfect. Pretty much how I envisioned parenting. Before I found out diapers and sleep deprivation and EFFORT was involved.

Next he wants to play. I swallow my pride, score and desire to WIN and say yes. Because I’m awesome.

He’s not bad and actually gives me some ideas to pass a level here and there. Plus, he takes turns with me.

The problem is that he wants to play as constantly as I do. But he has a younger, uninterested sibling. And a Dada.

So we must put the iPhone away.

Within an hour, E announces: I’m a yellow bird and you’re a pig.

And he slams into me.

So I run to the pillows and chairs, build a fortress and say: BRING IT!

And holy crap, he does.

E: I’m a pig now!

He builds. I leap on him and his fortress. KAPOW!

And all afternoon we reenact Angry Birds. Because I’m AWESOME.

Two nights later, he’s FREAKING OUT. So I say: Do you want me to tell you the story of Angry Birds?

E: YES!

The tears go and the stories begin. Stories about birds and pigs and stealing cats and candy and school, brick-by-brick. Complete with leg kicks and angry face and giggles

BECAUSE I’M AWESOME.

And so is Angry Birds. {gulp}  {pride swallowed} Now wear can I get wedges?

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on LateEnough.com, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

22 thoughts on “Angry Birds. Bringing Out The Awesome In All Of Us. Or At Least Me.

  1. Soooo funny! Just this morning at breakfast, my five year old (who will proudly be six tomorrow) asked me why I don’t play Angry Birds very much anymore. I didn’t have the guts to tell her it’s because I’m stuck on a level and it annoys the crap out of me that I can’t beat it, but I told her I’d let her play after school today. Secretly wishing she’ll beat it for me. Ha.

  2. I salute the equilibrium that Angry Birds has brought to you. That you might share this joy with E and when she’s ready, N. It’s like that used car you buy and Love and the evil white van driving neighbor sees it and says “Ew, you got that kind”. WTH? Angry Birds might not be new but it is new to you. Fire away.

    On that note, I hate to bring up Flight of the Hamsters. It’s not like you were using your laptop for anything else.

    PS: Mu ha ha ha!

  3. So many reasons why I love this story:
    1. The mom is the hero. Hello!
    2. It involves video games.
    3. It involves adults throwing pillows with kids.
    4. E is sharing something with you that you love. Heart melting.
    5. You told a bedtime story about it!
    6. You are a thespian!
    7. A son views his mom as quite possibly the coolest mom ever.
    8. I have no earthly clue what this game is and am even more out of the trend than you are thus encouraging your self-esteem to soar even more.

  4. What makes it so awesome is that you played it in real life being pigs and birds yourselves. I can only assume that’s how it would’ve been played in the olden times of no smart phones.
    I have refrained from buying the game. But now that you showed me pictures of it… I’m doomed.

  5. Laughing so hard at this.. “But what really happens is I spend months making fun of Lady Gaga, leggings and ankle boots. And another month ignoring my urge to buy them without choking to death on my pride. And then I’m gushing about my ankle boots about six months after everyone cares.”

    I’ve never heard of these angry birds. Lady Gaga: yes. Angy birds: no.

  6. So I’m also about 8.9 months behind on everything. I finally have skinny jeans after protesting against them for months.

    Thus, I have never heard about angry birds. I will get back to you in about 8 months and tell you how I feel about it

  7. For just about forever I eschewed leggings. (I think it was because I once wore them in junior high and nothing in the the entire universe needs to be remembered about junior high.)

    Anyway, once I figured they weren’t going anywhere–I bought a pair. Holy snakes. Stretchy pants ahoy! I’ve made it known that I want to be buried in leggings such is their comfort. Comfort for eternity!

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