Life aint Fair...

You’ll be happy to know that the militant hate leader of yesterday has put away her crown for the time being. Make no mistake, I remain quasi evil. However comma, it’s time to get back to the matter at hand...vacation debrief. So far we have learned that people slightly under 200lbs and slightly over the age of 30 shouldn’t ride pocket rockets, people with age spots should be put down and fat people shouldn’t sell fitness products. Now it’s “feel good” time! Are you ready for the big fair? Hide the children.

Every year my husband and I plan our vacation around the town fair for no reason other than straight logistics. We can walk there from Mom’s house, we can get drunk off $5 and there’s enough fried dough to go around. Or so I thought. Prior to opening night there was lots of talk around town about the best night to go, who’s in town and any the sharing of any pertinent gossip to enhance the experience. Big gossip via Aunt Kathy this year. Seems one of the Carnies (Carnival Workers for the non ghetto fabs) is a convicted pedophile. Is this shocking? Do we honestly think that the HR department at Carney Central is running background checks on the Ferris Wheel operator?! If you think about it, felons are perfect candidates for the job. They avoid re-arrest by moving from town to town, they don’t need housing (as they sleep in tents) and the available women are about as pretty as you get in jail! Hired!

On the morning of opening night, Dad and I took a quick run through the fair grounds to assess the situation. I was a little disappointed to see that the fair had shrunk in size. Where’s the damn Tilt a Whirl and how about that trailer with the largest rat in the world? It was only a $1 for a peep. I would have paid 2. Could economic woes be keeping the Carnies down? Can’t be sure. Just in time to lift my spirits, one of the Carnies popped out to tell us that he doesn’t “get into running”. Riiiiiiiight. Let’s paint a portrait with words, shall we? Skinny, mullet, greasy, wife beater T and teeth the color of a strong bowel movement. Needless to say I ran like a Kenyan. I knew that soon enough the smell of fried ass and sausage would fill the air and paradise would once again be mine.

Sean and I headed down to the big event just as soon as it was dark enough to do so. No, I wasn’t ashamed to be seen. Just like wearing black makes you look thin, going out after dark makes one appear a little less robust. I need all the help I can get. First move, beer tickets. My Dad…well, we’ll save an entire blog for him but God love him he saved the extra beer tickets we had leftover from the year before in an envelope marked “Sean, Beer Tickets.” He hates to see us waste money and I’m sure he can’t figure out why one would buy whole rolls of beer tickets. Because we are drunks with no sense. I knew better than to take those tickets. You see the Carnies are tricky folk. They change the color of the tickets every year so as to cut down on the low budget folks like myself. At $1 a pop I wasn’t worried about having to make an ATM run.

So I go up to buy my 400 beer tickets and I’m greeted by what appeared to be some sort of wild animal. He was large in size, had to teeth for gnawing and much to my surprise he was even behind a cage. As he processed my request, I could clearly see how he killed his prey. The top tooth was for grabbing and the bottom for tearing. Interesting. He smiled a lot which helped me pass the time while he calculated change for a $20. Nice round, even numbers are tricky at times. I was off to the beer tent to spend the king’s ransom. As I approached the “bar” I had to make a quick decision on my selection. Would it be Bud Light or Milwaukee’s Best? Observation time. If beer is $1, given those choices, who’s choosing the beast? Apparently everyone but me! I kept quiet and decided to people watch. Standing at the beer tent observing, is about as priceless as it gets. You have all the cool people from high school who are now 400lbs with 20 kids, the guy with the rat tail and the AC/DC t-shirt who still thinks he’s cool and the infamous “Cabbage” (so named for the size of his head) who has lost enough weight to re-qualify himself under the heading of “Lettuce.” Classic. Since it was raining n all, the crowds were down. There were the die hards (like Sean and I) but other than that you were mostly subjected to the whorey girls and guys who drove trucks with bug strips denoting the names of their bitches respectively. We decided (after a loaded hot sausage or 12) that it was time to call it a night.

We walked home and resisted the urge to relieve ourselves in various yards along the way. We did that last year and poor Aunt Milly hasn’t seen a blossom on her bush since. I don’t think Aunt Milly’s bush gets any action if you know what I mean! Sorry! As you can see, day one was a novel in itself! I’ll have to fill you in on day three tomorrow as I didn’t make an appearance on day two. I needed some recovery time. As I laid my head down on the Vagina bed I wondered, “What do these people think when they see me?” I know what I think….Is that Angelina Jolie’s twin sister? Do they have a secret blog about me? Maybe they laugh and call me fatty? So be it. I have all my teeth and my husband’s head is not named after a vegatable. I reign victorious. Stay tuned…