2003-08-12 1:42 a.m.
The County Fair and Life

Last week was County Fair week. I went twice; once with Steve and once with my family. Bought a cactus that's called "living stone" but looks like a butt to me. Scored a pair of dangly moonstone earrings for twenty bucks, which is fantastic, considering that I haven't changed my earrings once for the past five years. Yes, I am slow to change. Steve and I also got our picture taken at one of those stalls where they use the video camera to photograph people. We had the photo made into two keychains and also had one put into one of those cheesy cardboard frames. Ours is supposed to look like a brick wall with graffiti on it that says "Homies Forever", which is something we've been dying to do for so long because it's totally not "us" and we think it's hysterical. Yup, got home and set that bitch right on my antique rolltop desk.

Anyway, the Fair makes me happy. It's the only place I can scream like a murder victim, laugh like a lunatic, and eat like a pregnant woman. The only ride I refuse to go on is the Ferris wheel (which Steve insists upon pronouncing FerrisT wheel even though he knows it's wrong, which...I don't know...just irks the shit out of me). The Ferris wheel invokes the kind of terror in me that is only surpassed by my horror of bees, wasps, hornets, and any other winged creatures with panic-inducing stingers on their heinies. It's bizarre though, that I adore rides like the Salt & Pepper Shakers (which my dad calls the Egg Beaters...now that's irony; name the ride that's most likely to cause vomity incidents after things that have to do with food) and anything else that tosses me around in all directions like a ragdoll, but I feel faint just catching a glimpse of the fucking Ferris wheel. I wasn't always so afraid. In fact, the first time Steve and I hung out alone (when I was still with Frank...oops), my plan was to get him on the Ferris wheel and kiss him when we got to the top. Turned out, he was even more terrified of it than I was and flat out refused. How cute. It probably wouldn't have worked anyway, because I, inevitably, get stuck every time with some asshole who feels compelled to sway the fucking gondola as much as possible while we're at the top, inspiring panic-generated trucker-like pottymouth on my part. Would've made a lovely first impression, don't you think?

Zane (my 18 year old brother who just graduated) actually decided to come along for once, but spent most of the time being moody and noncommunicative. It took me all night to get him out of his funk and start having a good time which, surprisingly, worked...the best part was when we went on the bumper cars; my dad in one, my other brother Sam in another, and Zane and I doubled up in a third because I suck at driving those things. We named our cars after the golf carts from the Jackass movie; me and Zane were Gnarkill. Ha Ha! Zane's the best at bumper cars; we chased down my dad and Sammy a couple times and then "Ok, I'm goin' after Fatty over there in the blue shirt!" Wham! "Next up, the old lady in the pink one!" Bam! I think we gave her whiplash.

So, besides the freakout at work last Thursday ("This must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays."), which I may get into in a future entry, things are well right now. We go on vacation next week (beginning Monday), the Dark Alliance sequel will be out in the fall, one of my best friends is getting married, another's baby is developing at a rapid pace, another might be pregnant soon, and the love of my life will be home in a few minutes. So many things to be excited about and look forward to. I am a happy, joyful thing.

Current Read:"The God of Small Things" by Arundhati Roy

<< / >>