Okay, this is it. The hundredth post. And I know what you’re thinking: this one better be good. Well, it might be, because I’m about to leave for a county fair. That’s the thing where they show off giant pumpkins, have pie-eating contests, and weigh pigs to see which one is the fattest. Because everybody loves an obese pig. I’ve never been to one of these before, because frankly, I didn’t know they still existed. I’m thrilled to be attending one, because “county fair” seems like a wholesome place to be. (Like the library.) If it’s anything like the one they showed in the cartoon version of “Charlotte’s Web,” I’m gonna pee myself with excitement and overstimulation. Alternatively, it could be a handful of beaten-up rides and games, a crate containing a goat, and a hot dog stand. But we’ll see how it goes.
There were no giant pumpkins. I didn’t see anybody cramming pie down their throats. And while I did see ONE pig and piglet, they were not being weighed. BUT there was a horserace (yee-haw) and I guessed which horse would win and got it right. So if you need somebody to pick yer lottery numbers for ya, just gimme a ring-a-ling. I don’t know why I’m talking like a tobacco-spittin’, spur-jinglin’ cowgirl. Nobody there talked like that. For some reason, I thought they would all have Southern accents and wear flannel shirts, but what I got was a handful of sullen teenagers slumped behind cotton-candy and funnel cake stands, and sweaty middle-aged men working the overpriced rides. It was a little like a watered-down amusement park, for the most part. The standard rate for rides was five dollars per person per ride. Three dollars to try and shoot a basket and win a big stuffed monkey. But there was a whole big thingie of farm animals. It smelled just lovely. Really. Cow poop and goat breath are both such lovely aromas. But with pinched noses, we bravely marched into the pens and petted the smelly things. They were adorable. There was also a whole room of cages of rabbits. Of all the words in the English language, I think the one being used the most in that room at that time was “cute.” Everybody moved from cage to cage, cooing and making comments like, “Oh, my little bunny-boo, you are so cute,” “That one is adorable!” “Oh can we keep this one Daddy? Oh pleasepleaseplease?” “Oh my god you cutesy little thing! I just want to smother you with snuggles and kisses, my love!” And believe me, I chimed right in. These rabbits were for sale, and my sister went nuts. “DADCANWEGETONE?!” Of course I wanted one of those little twitchy-nosed lovebundles. But with our house already overtaken by a big slobbery dog and a rapidly shedding cat, a bunny was out of the question.
That fair was expensive. I already noted how much the games and rides cost (so we had to skip them, D:) but we cheated our way into getting a lower cost. It costs ten dollars for an adult, ages 13 and up, to enter the fair. It costs 6 dollars for a child, 12 and under. My dad asked me how old I was. “I’m twelve, right, Dad?” I replied. He was like, “Twelve? Okay,” not picking up on the sarcasm. Then he strode up to the counter before I could tell him otherwise.
Dad: “Two adults and one child.”
Cashier: “Okay, that’s going to be $26 dollars.”
Me: “Hey Dad, you know I’m not...”
Dad: -forks out two twenties- “Here’s forty, can I get a couple singles with change?”
Cashier: “Fourteen dollars change... is four singles enough?”
Dad: “Sure.” -walks away-
Dad: “Now, what was that you were going to say?”
Me: “Never mind.”
Yeah. So we basically cheated the ticket guy out of four bucks. But I think the county fair gods deserve it for not having giant pumpkins or pig-weighing contests. The fair was fun, though. The highlight of the day was when a big guy slurping an Icee was looking at T-shirts with Twilight people on them in the gift shop, and asked his daughter, “Hey, is that the Jonas Brothers?” Another strong point was when a dad holding his son said to the son, “You’re such a stupid kid,” and the son went, “Shut UP, Daddy!”
Afterwards, we had a late lunch in Pleasanton at the High Tech Burrito. I ordered a burrito just to see how high tech it really was. Another disappointment. It was just rice, grilled chicken, salsa, and cheese all wrapped up in a tortilla. No microchips. No SMS N75 calibration units. But it was a good burrito.
On the way home, we stopped at a dollar store. After a year of strict no-spending, it’s tough to ease myself back into my old lifestyle of an occasional purchase. I bought a pair of jeans when I was at the mall with a friend, but returned them awhile later after deciding I didn’t really need them. And at the dollar store, I saw at item that I was absolutely enamored to. I couldn’t pass up this product, no matter how much it cost. And hey, it was only a dollar anyway. My first purchase after a year of spending nothing was A WATER GUN SHAPED LIKE SPIDERMAN’S HEAD. Oh yes yes. I had to have it.
We came home and I went swimming. After dinner, my sister and I took the dog for a run. It started to get all scary and dark, so after a half hour we scrambled for home. Now I’m sitting here with the chlorine and sweat still clinging to me, typing a blog entry that probably won’t get posted till tomorrow, rushing through it because I really need a shower right now.