I decided that in order to do the Alice Cooper Free Titty Show post justice, I couldn't mix it with one about the Fair going public. That means that this post is about the walk through the FAIR.
Did I mention how much I HATE the FAIR?
I hate the Fair. It could be that my mother usually spazzed out over something stupid & small (usually a whiney Mumplette, truth be told); it might be that I know that in my home state, inspections of rides and attractions are fast and loose; it may very well be that I spend too much time around mooing and bleeting herd animals as it is, and can't abide the notion that I should pay admission to be surrounded by them. Take your pick of reasons. Mix and Match 'em, they're all true.
On the flip side of all that hate and frustration is the fact that I love the food. Funnel cakes. Sausage sandwiches. Lemonade. Snocones. French fries. I'll pay a lot of money for any and all of those delicacies. And that is why I do venture into a few Fairs and hometown pat-ourselves-on-our-backs fests. At least two a year.
As previously mentioned, My Sweetie and I had a hot date two weeks ago--to go to a concert at the FAIR. The Dreaded and Much Hated FAIR.
We paid to park at the local school. We paid a grumpy and dazed 14 year old girl to enter the FAIR. (As a side note: Children in Remedial Math should not be made to make change from an apron while standing in a blocked street. Ahhh, but then, Omens of Things to Come and all that applies, too.)
I have never (and I do mean NEVER) in my life seen such a collection of obscenely obese women in an enclosed area. It was like Wayne Zelinsky's Enlarge-O Ray went beserk in the Relief Office waiting room. Afterwards, instead of paying them a settlement, they handed out uniforms.
There were thousands of blubbery women. And each and every one of them were wearing a tye-dyed Tee and green (or pink, the color must've been optional) cotton elastic waisted shorts. And they were ALL eating. Sausage sandwiches. Ice Cream. Small Korean Family on a Stick. Pizza. Funnel Cakes. SnoCones. Corn Dogs. French Fried Midgets. Lemonade. Even the ones in line for a new and exciting tasty treat were already sucking down some serious calories while-U-wait.
The ambulatory ones were staggering about, weaving drunkenly between unsuspecting normal sized Fair Goers, muttering things like, "ooooo Funnel Caaaaaaake." Those who weren't muttering were the ones who were stopping mid-stride to stuff half a pizza into a pie hole. God help you if you heard, but did not comprehend the muttering. A woman, roughly the size of ORCA the killer whale would zip--yes, I said ZIP. They're quite speedy when hunting their prey--in front of you without warning.
There aughtta be a law regarding gross tonnage and change of course beepers. Seriously.
Finally, I have to tell you that the largest of these behemoths usually had satellites. Like the larger, gaseous planets you've learned about in elementary school, there were smaller, grubby looking children in orbit. Sadly and forlornly hoping for a SnoCone drip or a mozzerella drop, I'm sure.
By the time we exited the Godforsaken FAIR, I was wondering aloud where anyone found enough flour (and the iron stomach to commit the act) to impregnate these wonders-of-nature. Unless of course, he reused the flour...which is an even worse thought.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Meet the Fam
I've decided to share an "Awkward" moment in Mumple history, inspired by Awkward Family Photos.
When My Sweetie and I were first dating, it came time to meet the Fam. He'd obviously met mine (and meeting my mother for the first time was memorable in and of itself, but not the story I'm telling here) since we live in the same town. But going to meet his family was nerve-wracking, made more so by the fact that his family despised his ex-wife (albeit with reason) and I'm concerned that they'll just hate me no matter what.
Plus, I really liked him, and having his family hate me would definitely not help the relationship. Did I mention how much I really liked him? He's nervous too, because the sociopath he'd previously been married to made him doubt his sanity and judgement. He's still wondering if I'm going to go medieval on him at this point.
Off we go so I can meet them.
We're at his parents house, and of course, being the youngest of five, and the previous woman's rep, they're all there to meet me. (Their order is girl-boy-girl-several years-girl-My Sweetie, in case you were wondering.) Even his fat cow of a sister-in-law, and their daughters. Everything is okay so far...everyone's on his and her best behavior. I've managed not to swear for at least 2 hours, and they seem to like me.
My Sweetie has gifts for everyone, and I have brought an appropriate gift for his mom. His mom, and two of his three sisters have smallish, friendly gifts for me, just so I won't feel left out. The Middle One, sitting next to me on the couch, turns to me and says, "I didn't know if I'd like you or not, and I wasn't going to waste my money buying you anything until I knew if I would."
My mother-in-law, to this day, is absolutely mortified that she said it, but it cracks me up every Christmas when we tell this story.
When My Sweetie and I were first dating, it came time to meet the Fam. He'd obviously met mine (and meeting my mother for the first time was memorable in and of itself, but not the story I'm telling here) since we live in the same town. But going to meet his family was nerve-wracking, made more so by the fact that his family despised his ex-wife (albeit with reason) and I'm concerned that they'll just hate me no matter what.
Plus, I really liked him, and having his family hate me would definitely not help the relationship. Did I mention how much I really liked him? He's nervous too, because the sociopath he'd previously been married to made him doubt his sanity and judgement. He's still wondering if I'm going to go medieval on him at this point.
Off we go so I can meet them.
We're at his parents house, and of course, being the youngest of five, and the previous woman's rep, they're all there to meet me. (Their order is girl-boy-girl-several years-girl-My Sweetie, in case you were wondering.) Even his fat cow of a sister-in-law, and their daughters. Everything is okay so far...everyone's on his and her best behavior. I've managed not to swear for at least 2 hours, and they seem to like me.
My Sweetie has gifts for everyone, and I have brought an appropriate gift for his mom. His mom, and two of his three sisters have smallish, friendly gifts for me, just so I won't feel left out. The Middle One, sitting next to me on the couch, turns to me and says, "I didn't know if I'd like you or not, and I wasn't going to waste my money buying you anything until I knew if I would."
My mother-in-law, to this day, is absolutely mortified that she said it, but it cracks me up every Christmas when we tell this story.
Got the T-Shirt
I should have known I was in trouble when he sat down at the computer and pulled up the website he wanted without swearing, muttering, or asking for help. I should have been worried when he didn't start putting of a "I want to kill this thing" vibe. I should have been afraid when I saw that he had his wallet with him.
He never gets on the computer if he can help it. He couldn't check email to save his life. He can rarely find the site he's wanting, and he habitually says things like, "It hates me, you know." He'd throw the computer through a 3rd story window, if we had a third story and I'd let him.
Just over a month ago, he did the impossible--and the frightening. He got online. And he bought something.
His only request for my input was to ask, as he was nearing completion of his mission, "Hey, honey, you want to go see Alice Cooper at the fair, dontcha?" As my eyes glaze over at the ridiculousness of this question, he hits the send button and announces, "Good! I've got us tickets."
To say that our music tastes do not exactly mesh is an understatement. He habitually ridicules my choices, and I habitually groan and tolerate his. (In my defense, he cranks up the stereo more often than I do.) Some of his choices have grown on me, and I have come to actually enjoy listening to it.
But, Alice Cooper? Seriously? No, this concert is not high on my list of places I want to go. Add that to a FAIR of any kind, and in all honesty, I'm thinking "I'm in Hell" will be the catch phrase for the evening.
Until I realize that my enjoyment of watching the people would compliment his enjoyment of the show. AND, most importantly, neither of our children, nor any other family members would be going with us.
I wouldn't have to be on my bestest best behavior. I would just have to keep my frustration and irrational anger at the FAIR and everything it embodies to a minimum.
Last night, we were off to the fair. He was excited. I was amused.
While there, we ran into an Episcopal priest we know--and he was dragging his wife to the concert as well.
I managed, in the walk into the fair, and then into the concert, to hold in my giggles. And my sarcastic and rude comments. I managed to not go bug eyed at the over-50 people with beer bellies (mostly women) and the oldsters with gray hair down to their butts (men.) I managed to not begin shrieking with laughter when the woman in the green halter went by with no bra and each and every one of her stretch marks showing.
Seriously, I think the tickets should have read "BRAS OPTIONAL." And most of the braless were NOT the 15-25 year old hotties, either. They were, of course, the people who had the most to flap--I don't care who you are, looking at flabby 50-something tits hanging under a two sizes too small tee isn't attractive (although, in her defense, the green halter woman did have a decent set--not too big as to be flabby and saggy, but still!)
The show, overall, wasn't bad. It was actually fun. Somehow, my impressions of the show lead me to believe that Alice Cooper has quite a sense of humor. And he doesn't mind making fun of himself. And that he's rather a good showman. He knew what the audience wanted, and he gave it to them--right down to the beheading. And the hanging. And the song about Ethel.
In the end, the shiny, mirrored top hat and tails that he ended the show in was really, in my opinion, worth watching all the loose and free titties for.
Does this make me a fan? I don't think so. It does mean I can appreciate a good show. I can appreciate the work and planning that went into choreographing a concert that included several ways to die.
I can't believe the people who had their small children--I mean at least one had a baby in a stroller with them, and I saw at least a dozen children under the age of 9 in the crowd as well. The show was simply NOT appropriate for children. Sure, there was no nudity, but a few of "Nurse Rosetta's" costumes were black bustier and corset things, including torn fishnet nylons. And the noise level was enough to damage MY hearing forever, I can only imagine what it would do to a 9 month old baby's. And some of the death imagery was just too much for a child. I'm 42, and I can appreciate the "pretendness" of it, and am not bothered by a theatrical performance, but I couldn't imagine taking the Howler to a show like this and not causing some sort of short in her hardwiring--the sexual content of some of the songs, the sexual and violent imagery, which, I'm sure, by standards of 2009 TV and movie audiences aren't that shocking, would just be unfair to expose my child.
In the end, I did enjoy the show. Much to my own chargrin. My biggest regret? I forgot my camera.
And, yes, I did get the $30 t-shirt.
He never gets on the computer if he can help it. He couldn't check email to save his life. He can rarely find the site he's wanting, and he habitually says things like, "It hates me, you know." He'd throw the computer through a 3rd story window, if we had a third story and I'd let him.
Just over a month ago, he did the impossible--and the frightening. He got online. And he bought something.
His only request for my input was to ask, as he was nearing completion of his mission, "Hey, honey, you want to go see Alice Cooper at the fair, dontcha?" As my eyes glaze over at the ridiculousness of this question, he hits the send button and announces, "Good! I've got us tickets."
To say that our music tastes do not exactly mesh is an understatement. He habitually ridicules my choices, and I habitually groan and tolerate his. (In my defense, he cranks up the stereo more often than I do.) Some of his choices have grown on me, and I have come to actually enjoy listening to it.
But, Alice Cooper? Seriously? No, this concert is not high on my list of places I want to go. Add that to a FAIR of any kind, and in all honesty, I'm thinking "I'm in Hell" will be the catch phrase for the evening.
Until I realize that my enjoyment of watching the people would compliment his enjoyment of the show. AND, most importantly, neither of our children, nor any other family members would be going with us.
I wouldn't have to be on my bestest best behavior. I would just have to keep my frustration and irrational anger at the FAIR and everything it embodies to a minimum.
Last night, we were off to the fair. He was excited. I was amused.
While there, we ran into an Episcopal priest we know--and he was dragging his wife to the concert as well.
I managed, in the walk into the fair, and then into the concert, to hold in my giggles. And my sarcastic and rude comments. I managed to not go bug eyed at the over-50 people with beer bellies (mostly women) and the oldsters with gray hair down to their butts (men.) I managed to not begin shrieking with laughter when the woman in the green halter went by with no bra and each and every one of her stretch marks showing.
Seriously, I think the tickets should have read "BRAS OPTIONAL." And most of the braless were NOT the 15-25 year old hotties, either. They were, of course, the people who had the most to flap--I don't care who you are, looking at flabby 50-something tits hanging under a two sizes too small tee isn't attractive (although, in her defense, the green halter woman did have a decent set--not too big as to be flabby and saggy, but still!)
The show, overall, wasn't bad. It was actually fun. Somehow, my impressions of the show lead me to believe that Alice Cooper has quite a sense of humor. And he doesn't mind making fun of himself. And that he's rather a good showman. He knew what the audience wanted, and he gave it to them--right down to the beheading. And the hanging. And the song about Ethel.
In the end, the shiny, mirrored top hat and tails that he ended the show in was really, in my opinion, worth watching all the loose and free titties for.
Does this make me a fan? I don't think so. It does mean I can appreciate a good show. I can appreciate the work and planning that went into choreographing a concert that included several ways to die.
I can't believe the people who had their small children--I mean at least one had a baby in a stroller with them, and I saw at least a dozen children under the age of 9 in the crowd as well. The show was simply NOT appropriate for children. Sure, there was no nudity, but a few of "Nurse Rosetta's" costumes were black bustier and corset things, including torn fishnet nylons. And the noise level was enough to damage MY hearing forever, I can only imagine what it would do to a 9 month old baby's. And some of the death imagery was just too much for a child. I'm 42, and I can appreciate the "pretendness" of it, and am not bothered by a theatrical performance, but I couldn't imagine taking the Howler to a show like this and not causing some sort of short in her hardwiring--the sexual content of some of the songs, the sexual and violent imagery, which, I'm sure, by standards of 2009 TV and movie audiences aren't that shocking, would just be unfair to expose my child.
In the end, I did enjoy the show. Much to my own chargrin. My biggest regret? I forgot my camera.
And, yes, I did get the $30 t-shirt.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Purple Heart
Right now, I'm pretty angry.
I'm angry that as soon as we get one child in the neighborhood to settle down and behave like a human being, another one (or really, several of the little beasts) begins to drive us over the edge.
It doesn't help that I'm still in pain, and still feeling exhausted most of the time.
Today's insanity was inspired by my being made a butler. I spent about 15 minutes opening a door, for no reason at all.
First, it was "OPEN THIS STUPID DOOR!" because it was locked--as it should be, since we had just gotten home. Then it was because there were bugs out there. Then it was because the Howler left the front and went to the back (a bug free zone.)
I would have just enough time to sit down and get started on what I was doing, to have the bell sound and the pounding start...so I could get up and open the door again.
And let me tell you, when your elbow feels like it's twice the size is actually is and is achy and sore like you've just loaded a dozen 80 pound bags of Quikrete into a truck bed that's taller than you are, you still forget that, and since you're right handed, open the dammed door with your right hand.
Being greeted by little faces asking "Where's the Howler?" doesn't improve your mood. Then when the Howler re enters the house through a different door to whine and complain about God-Alone-Knows-What, the screaming and yelling that commences is probably going to be embarrassing when you next make eye contact with the neighbors.
And knowing the this scene is going to repeat itself several times over the course of the next two days...well, screaming bloody murder now really is just a warm up.
Add to all this the fact that, as annoying as OPK are, your own flesh and blood child is over the top annoying--what with the whining and pouting that you know, beyond a doubt is in your future...
If I shoot myself in the foot, will they send me home from this war?
I'm angry that as soon as we get one child in the neighborhood to settle down and behave like a human being, another one (or really, several of the little beasts) begins to drive us over the edge.
It doesn't help that I'm still in pain, and still feeling exhausted most of the time.
Today's insanity was inspired by my being made a butler. I spent about 15 minutes opening a door, for no reason at all.
First, it was "OPEN THIS STUPID DOOR!" because it was locked--as it should be, since we had just gotten home. Then it was because there were bugs out there. Then it was because the Howler left the front and went to the back (a bug free zone.)
I would have just enough time to sit down and get started on what I was doing, to have the bell sound and the pounding start...so I could get up and open the door again.
And let me tell you, when your elbow feels like it's twice the size is actually is and is achy and sore like you've just loaded a dozen 80 pound bags of Quikrete into a truck bed that's taller than you are, you still forget that, and since you're right handed, open the dammed door with your right hand.
Being greeted by little faces asking "Where's the Howler?" doesn't improve your mood. Then when the Howler re enters the house through a different door to whine and complain about God-Alone-Knows-What, the screaming and yelling that commences is probably going to be embarrassing when you next make eye contact with the neighbors.
And knowing the this scene is going to repeat itself several times over the course of the next two days...well, screaming bloody murder now really is just a warm up.
Add to all this the fact that, as annoying as OPK are, your own flesh and blood child is over the top annoying--what with the whining and pouting that you know, beyond a doubt is in your future...
If I shoot myself in the foot, will they send me home from this war?
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Warning!
For those who have been following the Saga of the Mumplized PTA, I've gotten a warning I must share:
There is an elementary teacher in CA who accidentally included 6 seconds of videotape showcasing her very personal, very adult love life in a video tape of "highlights" of the year for her students.
The warning is this: if, as a PTA, we're planning on having some video/powerpoint/slide show action at Open House, this is a VERY good time to be sure we're using brand spanking (hah!) new materials to make the visual aids.
And, in general, it's a good idea to CAREFULLY LABEL those personal adult moments and NEVER EVER re-use the tapes....burn 'em, but don't recycle 'em. In this one particular instance, I'm guessing that EVERYONE (especially the parents) will be glad that you're killing the environment, instead of killing their children's idolized image of you.
As a personal, adult side note: 6 seconds is not enough time to showcase the highlights of my current love life, not that I'm sharing My Sweetie with anybody--under any circumstances. *just sose ya knows.*
There is an elementary teacher in CA who accidentally included 6 seconds of videotape showcasing her very personal, very adult love life in a video tape of "highlights" of the year for her students.
The warning is this: if, as a PTA, we're planning on having some video/powerpoint/slide show action at Open House, this is a VERY good time to be sure we're using brand spanking (hah!) new materials to make the visual aids.
And, in general, it's a good idea to CAREFULLY LABEL those personal adult moments and NEVER EVER re-use the tapes....burn 'em, but don't recycle 'em. In this one particular instance, I'm guessing that EVERYONE (especially the parents) will be glad that you're killing the environment, instead of killing their children's idolized image of you.
As a personal, adult side note: 6 seconds is not enough time to showcase the highlights of my current love life, not that I'm sharing My Sweetie with anybody--under any circumstances. *just sose ya knows.*
Day Late & Dollar Short
I just realized that last Friday--July 3--was my three-year blogiversary.
So, it's true. Time flies when you don't know what you're doing.
So, it's true. Time flies when you don't know what you're doing.
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