State Fair yank

Wall to wall people. Elbow to elbow. Shoulder to shoulder. Butts to nuts. Four and a half hours of smelling body odor, fried food, garbage, and horse shit. I loved it. Since I will be out of town visiting the maternal unit in North Dakota next weekend, Mary and I had to move up our traditional Sunday before Labor Day trip to the Minnesota State Fair. Instead of breathlessly seeking out and inhaling all the new fried-shit-on-a-stick delicacies this year, we decided to stick with some standby favorites, sharing many of them to mitigate expanse to our waistlines. Ang and I split the deep fried spaghetti-filled meatball on a stick, then Mary and I shared an order of the deep fried pickle slices with sour cream dipping sauce. Ang turned her nose up at it, but reluctantly tried a slice at our insistence. She was meh about it. We continued on our way for Mary's favorite, crepes. Usually I skip the crepe, but a strawberries and whipped cream-filled crepe sounded too good to resist this time around. Ang nibbled on a few bites of it and agreed that it was spectacular. We then downed a root beer float, shared a Pronto Pup, and I went one step too far by eating a gigantic-ass garlic butter pretzel. I was full, burping and sweating garlic, but at least I didn't eat until I was sick.



Per another fair tradition, we went through the craft building to see all of the prizewinning entries. This activity is a combination of gasping at the creativity and stunning craftsmanship that it takes to create items like some of the intricate hand-carved woodworking pieces we saw, and snickering at the truly puzzling entries.

At first, I looked at this stained glass entry and exclaimed, "What the fuck?" But upon closer inspection, it was a little more interesting. The woman in the piece has a tattoo on her neck and lip and nose piercings. I wouldn't hang it in my man crib, but then again I'm not an artist living in a loft in Uptown. But what's with the mannequin head? Is chickie in the stained glass supposed to be modeled after the dummy?


This yarny dragon thing is so baked, man.


This thing with Spock on it got a blue ribbon.


The throngs of the dazed and unwashed search for grease-based biofuel.


The Minnesota State Fair is the place to come to eat food on a stick while standing near piles of horse shit and mucousy newborn farm animals like these piglets. Under that heat lamp, they look so tasty and bun-sized. Pass the mustard!


More sweaty, confused people.


After dropping off Mary at home, Ang and I kicked back with a few Summits in the back yard by the fire. I felt a little gurgle in my gut then, but a preemptive dump attempt proved fruitless. This morning, however, The State Fair's Revenge came calling from deep within. The tiny rumble in my stomach did not foretell the horror that would tumble forth from my unpuckered mudhole. The entire State Fair fell out of my ass. I'm not exaggerating. The actual Minnesota State Fair fell out of my rectum into the toilet. Or at least it smelled like it. I stood up, wiped, flushed, and my stomach rumbled again. Apparently a Pronto Pup stand and a morbidly obese woman in an electric cart didn't make it out during the first run. The viscous results stuck to the toilet bowl like hot tar on the bottom of a tennis shoe. I flushed and flushed and flushed, but nothing would wash away this stain of shame and overindulgence. It took two more similar dumps and a half dozen more flushes later in the morning to polish the porcelain back to its original white sheen. But I still say it was worth it.