Folks, there are rules. I have spoken of these. Rules for work attire. Rules for dealing with the Quiet Quotient of Stephanie. Rules of Open Toe Shoes. Rules of Concert Going. The world is a better place with rules.
I have now formulated Rules of Attending the State Fair.
See…it was the season of State Fair. And every year, we wait, with bated breath to see what the Next Big Fried Thing will be. Will it be Fried Snickers? Why, of course. Fried Butter? You betcha! Fried Cobb Salad? Right over here!!! This year…Fried Frito Pie washed down with Fried Beer.
Blech. My “sensitive” system can’t handle that much fried anything. I know, I know…as a born Texan, you would think I am all deep-fried and smothered in gravy…but my tummy is….sensitive. Damn.it.
So I have been twice this year. Opening day with my Girl and two of her buddies. And then closing day with the son and my Girl. The Daughter was supposed to join, but she overslept and well, didn’t call until we were on the Midway. *sigh*
But there’s always next year. And there’s always something else to be fried.
I say this, because I had a great day. The weather was PERFECT and there were lots of people to watch and now, to mock.
I submit the Rules of Fair Going…
- Wear comfortable shoes. Seriously. You are gonna walk 500 miles (da,da lat da, da,da lat da,….you’re welcome) so the more sensible and sturdy they are, the less you are gonna limp and groan…think orthorpedic. Think white. Leave the hooker heels at home.
- While on the subject of hooker attire (not to offend the working folk that read this! they do. I betcha) but seriously…more is better when strolling the Midway. There are kids for God’s sake. Cover them, cover it, cover THAT…just COVER IT UP. I don’t need to know you have a third nipple or if you are wearing underwear. I choose to leave that to my imagination. Boobs are not meant for the Fair. When Big Tex says “Howdy folks!” it’s not code for “Show me your tits!”
- On the other end…if you are wearing pants, first, THANK you and second…make sure they fit. I have seen the “Pants on the Floor” one too many times this year. If they are that baggy, eat something. A burger, ice cream, frosting….something. Until you fatten up try this…either buy clothes that fit or buy a belt.
- And in opposition of the loose baggy clothing, ladies…leggings are not meant to be worn by fat chicks. As a fat chick I can say this. It’s just obscene. If I can see a tan line through your pants, they are too tight. If you have to peel them off, they are too tight. You aren’t a sausage…don’t look like one.
- Along the same line, if you aren’t sure if you should wear that midriff baring shirt. If you are worried about your “muffin top”….DON’T wear it. I have seen more bellies oozing out of shirts of women that, while overly confident in their appearance, should never wear anything less than a full smock.
- And to the pretty, precious “boy” in the hot pink pants, the hot pink shirt and hot pink boa…Bobby Trendy called and he wants his image back. You didn’t have to act a fool to get attention…those pants did it for you. Trust me.
- Now, grooming. Specifically, BATHING…to the smelly guy on the Pirate Ship next to me…you have B.O. Not just a mild case of it…but a “I think I am gonna puke!” case of it. Especially when you put your arm behind me on the ride. Although I appreciated the support…seriously…you stink! Say it with me…Body Wash. Followed by Deodorant. They are not your enemy…
- If you are too lazy or just too drunk to walk around the fair, stay home. The scooters are there for folks that need them. Not for you because you just can’t be bother to walk or my favorite…you can’t put the Budweiser down. There are drunk driving laws…surely they are in effect for the fair…just imagine that on your rap sheet…DUI by scooter. At State Fair.
- Along the same lines, folks, don’t start walking in front of me, slow down or even stop in the middle of the path. I am on a mission…I need a corny dog and you are in the wrong lane. Move over…
- Texting isn’t allowed at the fair unless you have pulled to the side of the road and are no longer in front of me, fucking up my flow. I gots corny dogs to eat and your OMG! LOL! TTFN! isn’t helping this at all. In fact, I will get around you, give you stink eye and blog about you later.
- Carnival barker guy…no, you don’t get to guess my weight. It’s a lot. Trust me. And calling me out to have me step on your industrial scale isn’t gonna endear you to me. Ever. So let’s just agree to disagree and you go mess with the 7-year-old next to me…
- Take a second mortgage out on your home to afford the turkey leg. It was the last thing we bought this year and the Boy did his level best to finish it…but it was as big as he was. He gave it his all…until he broke out in meat sweats. The L-tryptophan got a hold of him on the way home and he was comatose until we hit the driveway.
- Take a bag for all the useless shit you are going to buy. And don’t buy it until the end of the day. There isn’t any need to drag that 14 piece cookware set around and buy it a ride on the Merry Go Round.
- Don’t put your kid on a leash. It pisses me off. If you can’t control them…leave them at home with a sitter. But its humiliating and when you get older, they will remember it…be warned.
- Don’t fight with your boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/mother/father/sister/brother/child in front of everyone. All you are doing is being the example of inbreeding. Put on your manners and leave the dirty laundry at home.
Oh….I can’t wait for next year!!!!
So, for now, my childhood friend, I say to you…I will miss you…Come back real soon!