Fair to Middling

Ok, all you smartypants people who guessed I went to a county fair type event were right. This was not a small town fair though. This is the biggest one in Pennsylvania and I love it. I'm still working on making my computer and my camera play nice together. Ok, I haven't worked on it at all. I've been busy. Ok, today I am busy and yesterday I was just trying to move because slogging around in the rain for 5 hours and then slingshotting myself made for some very sore muscles, muscles I didn't even know existed until they hurt and all conspired to make moving an activity requiring intense effort. That's not a complaint, mind you, I'd do it all over again if I had the chance. It's a good kind of sore and you all know I am a little bit touched in the head anyway when it comes to death defying feats.

Anyway, let me introduce my first little Fair vignette with a joke.

What's 50 feet long and has 4 teeth?

Any guesses?

The funnel cake line at the fair.

Fine, call me insensitive to the dentally challenged. The joke only employs a tad of hyperbole.

I did not go to the fair alone. I went with my mother and Diana. As I mentioned, it was raining. At times it was pouring. That's ok. As far as I am concerned it just keeps the fair-weather fair-goers away thus keeping the crowds down. It was not especially cold and I had my rain poncho so I was happily dry from the knees up. Mom had a raincoat and umbrella. Diana had an umbrella and rain boots. The three of us tromped around for about 3 hours before Mom and Diana decided during a break in the sheep barn as a great downpour commenced that they were waterlogged and had tired feet. I might add, the sheep barn is where I witnessed the enormous testicles referenced yesterday. Stallions and bulls may get all the hype for being well hung but sheep and goats, pound for pound, win in the massive balls category. I was going to take a picture for all you urban folks who think I am joking but Diana was already mortified by the Quasimodo look I cultivated with the rain poncho over my backpack. Had I squatted to aim my lens at a humongous set of sheep nuts she would have disowned me on the spot. Anyway, I was undeterred and I slogged on as Mom and Diana departed for drier locales.

As I splashed down the midway where nary a soul was braving the elements to waste stupid amounts of money trying to win cheap toys made for 50 cents in China, I foolishly made eye contact with a very bored, somewhat dampened, and noticeably dentally challenged carnie. He smiled his gapped grin and thrust out a dart in my direction, "Free throw for cute girls." I laughed quite loudly at the notion that in my soggy state with my plastic rain burqa anyone could find me cute. The rest of the conversation follows:

Me: Uh, yeah, right.

Carnie: Seriously, come throw the dart, no charge. You're cute. You think I am saying you're cute just so you'll play, dontcha?

Me: Yep, pretty much.

Carnie: Naw, You're cute.

Me: (Wondering how exactly he could even determine my gender under the yards of plastic I was wearing before realizing I might not be having this conversation had I not recently waxed my upper lip) You must like your women bedraggled and hunchbacked.

Carnie: (Leering as he eyes me head to toe) No, but I like 'em meaty.

Me: (Arching a single eyebrow and thinking, "What a charmer. Why IS this guy single?")

Carnie: Just throw the dart, It's free.

Me: What do I get if I hit the target?

Carnie: A prize? Whaddya think?

Me: (Thinking, "Ask a dumb question...") Ok, gimme the dart.

Carnie: (In what I am sure he thought was his most seductive tone but what really came across as just creeptastic and as I aimed) If you meet me during my dinner break I'll give you any "prize" you want, baby."

Me: (Tempted to aim the dart at what would have been a decidedly larger target on a ram but opting to release it toward the board and nowhere near the bullseye) Think I'll pass, thanks. Stay dry.

Ah life's great pageant...